


Unburnt

by Aiashi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Family Issues, Firebending Min-Maxing, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, POV Original Character, POV Third Person Limited, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26481142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiashi/pseuds/Aiashi
Summary: He remembered being a better person, in another life. That was before he was reborn into a royal family of unparalleled power, and into a world that wouldn't feel out of place in a fantasy series. Seriously. There was magic and everything, it was totally whack. Self-Insert with angst, mental issues, and no knowledge of Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Relationships: Azula (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Zuko (Avatar) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

As his sister demonstrated her exceptional firebending skills for their grandfather, he kept his face blank. He stared into the flames surrounding the throne, and something occurred to him.

He couldn't remember his old name.

A weird thing to realize out of nowhere, but it still brought him up short.

It wasn't exactly shocking, just… Sobering.

It was another memory, in a long series of memories, that he had lost over the years. Every day he had a harder time convincing himself that this was all fake. That all of this was a construct. An illusion. Some sort of trick. Fake. Fake. _Fake_. All of it. To this day he would still sometimes take a second to look around and deny everything in his head. But now he did it out of habit, rather than out of belief. Many of his old memories were gone, but that remained.

It was no longer a concrete statement that his life was a lie. Merely a reminder that he used to believe it.

He still remembered some things. He used to play video games, read web serials, binge series, partake in fandom, and he had been in the process of learning piano. The broad strokes were there, but all the detail was gone.

Sorta like a half-baked biography.

Writing it down helped for a while. But then he was scolded for wasting paper to write gibberish. Then he tried hiding it, and he was scolded again.

It was hard to keep secrets in a palace.

Yes, yes. Being royalty was _so hard_. Quick, someone come and play a teeny tiny violin for him while he sobbed into his piles of money and privilege.

He rolled his eyes in response to the criticism no one had vocalized.

Arguing with himself.

One of the stubborn holdovers from his past life.

And he was fairly confident that it was a past life, instead of some delusion or evidence of his insanity. There was enough precedent for it, although his circumstances were still abnormal. Avatars reincarnated and shared memories with their past selves, or something like that, though he was most certainly _not_ the Avatar.

If anyone ever asked, he would wave his hand vaguely and blame the spirit world, and they would nod like they knew what he was talking about. Mutually assured stupidity, he called it.

Wouldn't _that_ be a fun conversation? He asked himself, in his mind, sarcastically.

No. No, it would not.

His old life, his old memories. His old name, even. Much as it pained him to forget, most of it was just a lot of nonsense that wasn't that relevant or helpful. He had no preordained purpose or special abilities that came with the memories. They made him more complicated, and not in a fun way. Annoying and confusing complexity, but not fun.

"Iroza."

He blinked.

Iroza. That was the name he responded to now. The only one he had left.

He looked over at his father, who seemed slightly more annoyed than usual. A bit concerning. He didn't typically zone out so easily during visits to the throne room. But then he had just gone through a rather emotional moment. Kind of.

"Yes, father?" he replied, his tone measured and polite.

The man's golden eyes narrowed at him. Again, slightly more than usual. Ah, so he _had_ missed a command. Oh well. He wouldn't lose sleep over it.

"Show your grandfather the fruits of your labor," he said, and the words were harsh despite their low volume and kindly tone. His lips twitched upwards. "Unless you do not feel as prepared as your sister?"

It was a loaded question, and he wouldn't take the bait.

He gave a respectful nod and rose to his feet. "By your will, father."

Stepping forward into the center of attention, he bowed deeply to his grandfather. He felt his father's gaze following him, and he ignored it. Then he fell into a familiar stance and readied himself for the firebending routine that had been drilled into him.

Like he was in some beauty pageant.

He wasn't nearly the prodigy his sister was, much as he tried. His flames were much smaller, and his firebending energy was lethargic. Much like him. But doing magic was pretty cool, something that wasn't possible in his past life, so he was dedicated to getting better and too stubborn to settle for less. It wasn't enough to bridge the gap. But it was enough for Iroza.

Not enough for his father, of course. It would never be.

As the man liked to say; he was dedicated, but she was talented.

The man loved trying to hurt him. Delighted in it. Turning his children against each other was a treasured pastime of his. That was why his sister had been called to demonstrate first, despite her superior skill. Their demonstrations served two purposes. To show off, and to remind Iroza that he was weaker. No moment of glory for going first and garnering at least a bit of praise. Best to snuff out any self-worth straight away.

He took a breath and pulled.

As his inner flame surged to answer his call, he suppressed a smile.

It was one of his best-kept secrets from his father; that Iroza wasn't driven by his competitive nature.

Firebending was just fucking awesome.

He loved the flow of energy coursing through his body. He kicked through the air and loosed some of it from his foot, painting an arc of flame around him. He was less concerned with the katas. He went through them efficiently and deliberately, but without the fierce aggression of Azula. Even he could tell that his movements were more wooden. The kicks and punches, jumps and twirls, were all so much filler to him. Something he had to do, because he had practiced.

Because it was expected of him.

What he truly craved was the rush. Fire was the element of power and energy and he _relished_ the feeling of embracing it, and letting it embrace him. He took his time, without appearing to, and savored it.

For a moment there was only him and the blaze he surrounded himself with.

As he finished, landing into a crouch, he dipped his head towards the floor and smothered his emotions before he could grin or laugh.

Not bad, he decided.

Pretty okay, even.

Azula would criticize him once they were alone, and he would ignore the parts that weren't helpful. But he was confident he had done fine. It was important for him to internalize that. His sister was like a shark. If she smelled weakness, she wouldn't hesitate to go after it.

It was adorable when it wasn't so unnerving.

He ignored his grandfather's token praise, then humbly thanked him for it.

With another bow, he turned and walked back to his family.

His father nodded, not deigning to praise him with words, which was as much approval as he could expect from the man. His mother smiled and, as usual, it didn't quite reach her eyes. Azula tilted her head and smirked, and it was definitely more adorable than she intended. Zuko…

Zuko scowled, and he too looked more adorable than he intended.

As he sat back down he shot a quick glance at Azula. She had probably been whispering to Zuko after her excellent performance. Not that he minded. But it was slightly grating for her to distract from his not excellent, but still pretty okay performance.

After a few seconds, he decided he didn't care.

As his father and grandfather talked, he looked over at Zuko. His older brother was still scowling and refusing to look at him, or Azula. _Especially_ Azula. The boy clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

Iroza felt a strong sense of foreboding.

Leaping to his feet, Zuko stomped forward to go and prove that he could be a ninja too. Or something. He shuddered.

Ah, yes. Secondhand embarrassment.

Another holdover from his past life.

Wonderful.

Iroza didn't laugh when his brother fell on his ass. He didn't frown when their father glared and said something offhand and cutting. He didn't feel relieved when their mother rushed forward to embrace her oldest son with coos and soft words of encouragement.

He did roll his eyes at his brother's antics because he should honestly know better by now. He just couldn't summon any sympathy.

He should be able to, and he used to have it in him, but he couldn't.

He should feel bad, but he didn't.

Azula leaned over and whispered, "What a crybaby."

Humming noncommittally, he agreed without really seeming to and knew that she could tell.

They were twins, after all.

***

Whenever they trained, his father had many things to say. Nothing positive. Not for him.

"Breathe deeper. Your fire must extend further, past this point. Aim for it."

"Your form is weak. There is no force, no follow-through."

"Have you been skipping your exercises? You should have more muscle by now. Perhaps your body is just weaker."

"Do not smile. Happiness does not fuel your flame. It is rage, and it is passion."

"You try to get around it, but you are not enraged. We shall remedy this."

"Hatred is weaker, but still a passable substitute. Yet it seems you cannot even summon that much. Disappointing."

"More."

"Move faster."

"Your stance is getting worse. Sloppier."

"Look at her flames. You can already see the tint of blue in them. I doubt you will ever come close to emulating that."

"You are twins, but it seems you are the youngest in more ways than one."

"Again."

"Your flame is pathetic."

"Do it again."

"I shall no longer be personally seeing to your instruction. Azula simply has a much higher potential for growth. You will continue to train with Zuko, in the basics."

As always, at the end he just nodded.

His face was blank, and his emotions were smothered. He suppressed his passion, his rage, and his hatred. It wasn't an easy decision for him to make. He already couldn't summon the kind of power Azula could. His inner flame wasn't the inferno that hers was. Based on everything he was taught, suppressing his passion was detrimental to his bending potential. And he could feel it. But he also couldn't give in to his father. Wouldn't give in. He refused.

And maybe that was why the man hated him.

Because he never gave him the pleasure of bending to his will, or rising to his taunts. Iroza would never be his father's son, not like Azula or Zuko. Much as he wished it was different, his siblings were his father's servants. His tools, to be used and possessed and driven by their desire to please him.

Ozai looked down at his youngest child, his brother's namesake, and knew that the boy felt nothing for him.

Nothing at all.

***

"Iroza. I thought I'd find you here. How can you be so predictable?"

Laying flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the roof, he opened his eyes and squinted. Azula smirked down at him.

"You're blocking the sun," he said blandly, instead of answering.

She scoffed.

"Are you still upset about what I said to Zuzu? You are, aren't you?"

He didn't ask which time she was referring to. She likely knew it was a buildup, rather than one specific instance of her teasing.

He reached up and laced his hands behind his head. "I'm not upset. Look at how not upset I am. No glaring, frowning, or yelling. I'm totally relaxed."

With a scowl she sat down next to him, glaring out at the palace.

"I only said it because I meant it," she said harshly, shooting a glance at him as he looked up at the sky. "He's pathetic, and father knows it. He should know it too."

He yawned. "But that's not why you said it."

"And? Does it matter why?"

"Not really," he said, turning his head to look at her. She looked away. "It was kinda mean, though."

She snorted. "As if you care."

He fell silent at that. Thoughtful silence. Not brooding silence.

"Yeah," he said after a bit, "I guess I don't."

"Then why pretend to?" she asked, sounding truly confused and frustrated because of it. She never reacted well when she couldn't easily figure him out. Because they were alike. "You're not some kindhearted fool, like Zuzu or our _esteemed uncle_ , and that's a good thing."

He knew she was saying that to herself, as much as to him. And it was true.

Why did he pretend to care? Part of him that remained from his past life, maybe. Another fragment he stubbornly clung to, even if it didn't really feel like it fit him anymore.

With a sigh, he brought his legs up and rolled into a sitting position.

"Being compassionate used to come easier to me," he admitted, and the next part was harder to say than he'd like. "Now… All I can do is smile, and pretend."

Azula didn't respond at first.

Then she forced an empty laugh out and bumped shoulders with him. "Father always says compassion is a weakness. It's only natural that you and I should be rid of it."

He snorted. "Because you're not weak."

" _Neither of us_ are weak," she said firmly, and he took comfort in how certain she sounded. She stood with a sigh, pulling him up with her. "If you just stop holding back and commit yourself more, father will see it too. Now come on. Mother sent me to come and bring you to the gardens. She wants us to _socialize_ again."

Ah, yes. Their mother's ongoing quest to find friends for her children by setting up playdates with the sons and daughters of nobility.

"And you bring this up now?"

"Oh, hush. You were brooding, so I decided to talk to you first."

He snickered into his fist. "Aw, _Zula_. I didn't know you cared. Such heartwarming compassion from my loving older sister."

"Keep talking, you'll see just how much I care."

He kept talking.

Their mother was very cross with them when they showed up half an hour late with their clothes singed.

***

They did eventually end up finding some kids to be friends with.

Well, Azula found some friends easily enough. Zuko tried, bless his stubborn little heart, and awkwardly blushed and blundered his way through all of three and a half conversations before retreating to the corner in shame. A valiant attempt and he was sure to tell the sulking boy as much. As for Iroza, he just kind of stood there staring into space, scaring away all interlopers, until it was finally over.

Wallflower powers, activate.

As it turned out, Azula's new friends were just two existing friends she had already met at the academy. A really bubbly girl with loads of siblings who liked cartwheels and sweets, and a really _not_ -bubbly girl without any siblings who liked knives and death. Iroza stroked his chin and dubbed them frowny and smiley, respectively. Nobody laughed.

He thought it was hilarious.

Zuko called it out as blatant cheating once everyone had left, which of course it was, but no one cared. It wasn't like it was a competition.

"It's not like it was a competition," he said as much to his brother.

Azula smirked. "But you definitely lost, Zuzu."

"Because you cheated," Zuko ground out.

With a dramatic sigh, he threw an arm around his brother's shoulder. Or tried to, anyway. Zuko had two years on him, and Iroza already wasn't as tall as he'd like. He blamed Azula for being his twin. Their shared genetics were sabotaging him. "Don't worry, Zuko. _I'll_ be your friend."

"That doesn't count," he said moodily, shoving his arm away.

Recoiling as if struck and clutching his chest, Iroza gasped and made his voice waver. "How could you say that? I thought we had a special bond. A bond of _brotherhood_."

Zuko turned away and crossed his arms, not quite managing to hide the smile Iroza had coaxed out of him.

"You can't hide the truth from me now," he growled. Lunging forward with a ferocious battle cry, he attacked and exploited Zuko's many weak points with ruthless efficiency. He didn't let up until the older boy was curled up on the ground, breathless from laughter. "I will never forget your betrayal, _brother_."

"You're unusually playful today," Azula said, sounding slightly suspicious and a little jealous.

"I suppose I am, _Zula_."

He turned to her with a gleam in his eyes that had her take a cautious step back, raising a finger to warn him off.

"Don't even _thi_ —"

Her words were cut off by her own indignant cry as Iroza charged forward and threw her over his shoulder.

"Let me down, _now!_ " she shrieked, glaring over at Zuko as he climbed to his feet. "Zuko, tell him to let me go!"

Iroza laughed his best evil laugh.

"No one will stand in my way," he roared. Whirling around in circles to disorient Azula, he sprinted around the garden while she yelled and pounded her fists into his back and Zuko eagerly gave chase. "Not even you, Zuzu! All will perish before the all-consuming might of my playful whims!"

Their mother stood far off in the shaded walkway, smiling fondly.

Iroza decided to be nice and not notice her.

Let her enjoy it, while it lasted.

***

And of course, it didn't last.

It never could have lasted. Iroza's memories were lacking in foreknowledge, and he was no fortune peddler, but war was war. And war never… Became different. He knew enough to know that nothing good of his would last. He struggled, smiled, and pretended. He tried to be a brother, a son, a nephew, and a cousin. All of them, and he wasn't particularly good at any of them.

He had more luck as a sibling, but that was also where he tried hardest. They were kids, with the capacity to be decent people, being raised in a toxic environment. Just a shitty situation. He could relate, and so he could connect with them easier.

Not that it mattered.

Honestly, it sometimes felt like the universe was conspiring to fuck over his family in particular. Specific parts of his family, that is. Parts that weren't his father.

A lot of things just started going wrong all at once.

His cousin died before the walls of Ba Sing Se. Then his uncle abandoned the siege in his grief, returning home a failure. His father tried to wiggle his way into being heir, which _really_ didn't work out until it did. His grandfather unceremoniously kicked the bucket, his mother disappeared without explanation or investigation, and his father ascended to the throne. All hail Fire Lord Ozai, first of his name, protector of the realm, yada yada.

This was all within a week or two.

What a hot streak of garbage.

Life was so different after that. Life under Fire Lord Ozai was much worse than life under Prince Ozai. If that was even possible.

Smiles and easy jokes between siblings were harder to come by.

Azula was all smirks and quips at other people's expense. That didn't change. But it was crueler. Pointed. Her quips turned into jabs, feeling out weaknesses in others. Exploiting them. She always looked to their father as an example. She wanted to be like him. And for her, that meant every conversation was a contest. Every genuine smile was something to be mocked.

They were still twins. He understood her. Sometimes he wished he didn't understand her quite as well as he did.

Zuko was better. The best of them, as he always was. But he retreated from Azula because of who Azula started to turn into. And he retreated from Iroza for much the same reason. It was disappointing. But it was also understandable.

Azula was an ideal daughter.

Iroza was the mockery of an ideal son.

Almost satirical, if he ever put any heart into his acting.

Zuko recoiled from Ozai's vision of a model son, and Iroza refused to hold that against him.

Their father wanted a son like Ozai was to his father.

Iroza had no lost love for his grandfather. To him, the man was just a stern face sitting on a throne. Possessing great power and demanding respect, but he never registered the man as an actual person. Even when they met in less formal circumstances. He was just a face. A cardboard cutout of a man.

Ozai wasn't just a face. Iroza tried to treat him as just a face, but the man was just too present.

Even when he started training Azula one on one, his subtle taunts and condemnations still found a way to reach him. Iroza was never unaware of how little the man thought of him. He was always around. For better or worse.

Worse. It was worse.

But it wasn't nearly as bad as it was for Zuko. Zuko was a good kid, his mother's son in more ways than one, and Ozai _despised_ that fact. Iroza at least never gave the man an overt reason to punish him. All of his rebellion was in mannerisms and hollow respect. He went through the same motions Azula did, but they were just motions. And anyone could tell if they looked hard enough.

Zuko wasn't as subtle in his rebellion, since he was a good kid and all that, but it was even worse. He didn't know what kind of man his father was. So how could he know to be subtle?

Zuko wanted his father's love and respect. But Ozai only cared about himself.

He was a narcissist like that.

He valued Azula, true enough. But only insofar as her talent and ruthlessness made him look like a competent father, teacher, and leader. Even Iroza, for all that there was nothing like love or respect between them, was afforded special training and preferential treatment. Over Zuko, that is. Because he was competent, ruthless, and had nothing but good things to say about the war and his father.

The difference was in how genuine it was. Azula was genuine. Iroza was not. Zuko was genuine, but it was in all the wrong ways.

Their father wasn't shy about choosing Azula over both of them. And he wasn't shy about choosing Iroza over Zuko. It was a loud, obvious signal as to what qualities the man valued in his children.

For a long while, it seemed like that was as far as it would go. Emotional abuse.

Azula said as much, which was surprising.

Not that she would pick up on it, but that she would be so optimistic.

And it was optimism.

Zuko wasn't one for subtlety. Not now. Not yet. He hadn't figured it out, so he would have to learn. He would learn the hard way. He would go too far, step over some line without realizing, and that would be that.

Iroza said as much, and it wasn't surprising at all.

Pessimism came easier to him, after all.

And so he wasn't shocked when Zuko stepped out of line. The boy attended a strategy meeting and let his goodhearted naivety fly in the face of some faceless general. Sacrificing loyal fire nation troops was bad, he said. Super controversial. How dare he.

Iroza rolled his eyes in his mind.

He wasn't shocked when Zuko was challenged to an Agni Kai as a result of that. Worried, sort of, but not shocked. Zuko was kind of asking for it, honestly. Trying to be a shounen protagonist in an environment like this? He was past-due for a reality check. He'd get knocked around a bit, embarrassed a lot, and with any luck it would be a good learning experience for the kid.

That didn't happen.

Of course it didn't happen.

Iroza stood in the crowd, next to his sister and his uncle, and watched. He watched as Zuko turned around, his quiet resolve immediately giving way to shock and horror. He watched as Zuko fell to his knees, apologizing and reaffirming his loyalty. Refusing to fight.

Tears in his eyes, he looked up at their father and begged for mercy.

When Ozai closed one hand around his son's top knot and gently cupped his face with the other, Iroza watched. The chamber was bathed in orange light, and he refused to so much as blink in the face of it. Zuko screamed, a sound he would never allow himself to forget, and Iroza forced himself to keep watching.

His brother's body went limp, bare skin smacking against the stone floor as their father cast him aside and walked away.

And his gaze remained on Zuko.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. The burn. The smell of charred flesh in the air. The way their father had scorched his face with so much cruelty. Intent. _Precision_. It was disgusting, of course. Morally abhorrent, and unforgivable. And just…

Fascinating.


	2. Chapter 2

Iroza was nervous.

He was man enough to admit it.

Not out loud. But in the privacy of his own mind, he was slightly terrified.

"Whenever you are ready, my prince."

This was it. The big moment. This was what he had been working towards for… Oh, jeez. Quite a while. When had their father maimed and banished Zuko? A year ago? Definitely more than a year. A year and a half, or maybe a bit more. It was a _little_ embarrassing that he couldn't remember.

Good thing his poker face was ace.

Ha. Puns.

He shook his head lightly. No time for puns, he had to focus.

Taking a deep breath, he fell into his beginning stance. His movement was loose, as always, but for once he was taking his forms seriously.

A step forward, and he smoothly shifted his arms around him. Then came the pull. One more shift in his stance, one more step, then his fist flashed forward. A spout of flame erupted from the end. Not a lot, but just enough. He repeated the motion with his other fist, summoning another flame. Another breath kept either from dissipating right away.

Now came the hard part.

He slowed his pace. It almost hurt. But he slowed and eased up on the pull.

The energy throbbed and surged inside of him. His fire demanded to be let loose. It couldn't just disappear without being used, and using it would defeat the point.

He slowed and waited, falling into a stance and stopping for a bit. The fire from his fists grew smaller. Smaller.

His fists ached, and he bit his lip to distract himself. Another deep breath.

He kept waiting until the fire was nearly dead.

Then he once more started to move. _Slowly_. Not even close to his initial pace.

It was as though he was trying to move through molasses.

Oh boy, that was heat. The inside of his hands _writhed_ from the buildup of energy. He was fine, of course. Totally copacetic. But it was starting to feel a bit shitty. Just a little.

But he couldn't let it loose.

He grit his teeth. A small tendril escaped, despite his concentration.

Shit.

He was going for precision. Inspired by what his father was able to do. Iroza grimaced, but still brought the image to the forefront of his mind once more. Every detail committed to memory. His father's hand had been glowing bright orange with power, flames only escaping when he allowed them too. Precision. Intent. Precision. Intent.

Another breath. Always breathe, but only with purpose. Each breath was calculated.

No movements wasted.

All while he kept at least one of his hands as close to eye-level as he could while moving through his katas. Close enough that he could observe with clarity. He couldn't see a proper flame now, but the distortion of air from the heat was still visible.

Light discoloration of his skin.

Then a bit more. His fists were nearly radiant from the heat. Skin shifting color slowly to that ember-like appearance. Not blue, though. His flames weren't on that level. As a firebender, he couldn't really measure his own temperature objectively, but anyone else who touched his fist would probably say it was super fucking hot.

Not enough heat. But it was enough for now, at least.

His hands were red, and goddamn did it hurt.

"Ease off, if you feel it's too much," his instructor chimed in, sounding concerned.

"Right… No, I'm good," he said quickly, "I can do this."

Time for him to fuck shit up. He breathed again and his movements began to speed up before he could chicken out.

Optimism was hard.

From molasses to water. He moved through his forms quicker and called upon more of his energy. More. More of it at once. All the while he resisted the urge to let it loose from his hands. His palms moved to strike, shifting into a position where he would typically unleash a dual torrent of flame. His chi flowed through his arms to comply. Then, at the last second, he pulled back again.

His face contorted in pain. Clenching his jaw, he just barely avoided biting down on his tongue. He let loose a shuddering breath through his nose, still refusing to slow down.

Everything sucked.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_. Fuck firebending, it was total ass. Fuck his father for giving him shitty ideas and being a garbage role model. He should give up firebending and be an actor or something. He _would_ give up firebending. He wouldn't do it anymore after this. Never. Never ever.

This was a mistake. Very big, huge mistake.

Noticing his instructor move to interfere, he said something to ward him off. Some reassurance or command. He wasn't paying much attention. He couldn't afford to.

"If you're certain, Prince Iroza."

Another breath. He kept going.

The heat began building, slowly creeping up from his hands and into his wrists.

Everything was fine, it was great.

Nothing was wrong.

Another breath, another step. Everything was normal and fine and nothing hurt. While at the start he had been focusing on his hands, now he was focused on looking anywhere but his own body. Because nothing was wrong. It was totally fine.

Despite his efforts, his pace had slowed back down. Why? No reason.

He was not in pain.

The energy had built up to the middle of his forearms, which were red hot.

Right. Now he had stopped entirely. He was frozen in place, eyes scrunched shut. He wasn't focused on the pain because there wasn't any. He wasn't embarrassed by the tears because he wasn't crying. Any tears he may have shed would just dissolve right away from his heightened body heat.

"Breathe, my prince. Don't let the heat overwhelm you."

Was he still breathing? He wasn't totally sure anymore. Better check.

He breathed, slowly and shakily.

He was wavering. Tiny licks of flame appeared on his arms, which were a totally normal color and didn't hurt at all.

Now to wind it down. Homestretch.

The worst was past him, although it didn't feel like it.

He forced himself into movement, his body shivering as he carried on through his forms. He wanted it to be over already, but rushing it at this stage would be _incredibly stupid_.

Why was he shivering? He must be cold because he definitely wasn't too hot.

Tensing his jaw, he shifted into an attack stance. Final movement. Planting his feet and bracing for impact, he committed to the attack. He threw both of his fists forward in tandem and tried not to flinch as his chi once more answered the call. The energy felt violent. Ready to tear his arms open if he denied it again. Such was the limit of his control right now.

But that was fine.

This time he had no intention of pulling back at the last second.

His fists sparked once, then he opened his palms.

This time he had to screw his eyes shut because the light was blinding.

The power that accompanied it sent him sliding back several yards before he was able to reorient his footing and stop.

He muttered a curse, turning his head away.

It was _still_ too bright.

And too loud.

All of that energy and heat being let loose all at once. It was like letting his thumb off of the end of a really big garden hose. Except the hose was full of fire, instead of water. Mixed metaphors. It was a raging inferno he wasn't capable of summoning otherwise. Nothing ridiculous like some sort of anime energy beam, but an explosion of fire in its own right.

He called it fire-edging. He was also the only one who called it that.

Nobody appreciated his sense of humor.

As it began to die down, his mind started clearing up and he was able to think more critically.

It was a pretty surprising result, considering what the ceiling of his power had looked like in the past. Min-maxing his firebending. What an idea. It was only now starting to pay off, and he planned on taking it much further, but it was a start. And the result was something to behold.

Assuming his opponents would agree to stand still for a few minutes while he warmed up, he could flatten most anything in his way.

As the last vestiges of energy left, he dropped his arms and focused on not hissing in pain.

"Wow. That sucked."

"Not as such, my prince. You have achieved a truly impressive degree of control." The man actually sounded impressed.

Grudgingly so, but still.

Iroza tried to snort, but it turned into a wheezing cough as smoke flew up from his lungs. He smacked his lips and grimaced. Firebending smoke tasted like shit. "Thank you, master. But I was referring to the pain involved. It sucked. Really sucked."

"I expect it _would_. Honestly, the fact that you haven't blown your arms off is a feat in itself," said someone who was _not_ his master. Someone whose opinion was, therefore, unsolicited and decidedly unhelpful. Besides, all of Iroza's ideas were amazing. Everyone said so.

He turned to squint at Azula, who was leaning against the wall with a bored expression that also managed to come off as amused and smug.

She was versatile like that.

"For your information, I haven't even come close to blowing my arms off in months," he said, sticking his nose up at her. Standing up straight and trying to rub some feeling back into his wrists, he let out a sigh. "The after-effects I could do without, though."

Pushing herself off of the wall, she walked over and held her hand out expectantly.

"I'm fine," he said, clutching his wrist to his chest protectively.

Azula managed to look even more bored.

Iroza groaned, looking away and holding his hand out.

He stared up at the high ceiling while she inspected his arm. She poked and prodded, turning it over and making a lot of annoyed sounds that weren't at all warranted.

His arms were fine.

"If you want to admire my immaculate musculature, all you need to do is ask," he teased, pulling his arm away once she was done pretending not to be concerned.

" _Immaculate_. Right." But even then she still looked exasperated. "I feel obligated to bring up how foolish and unnecessary this is. Firebending isn't supposed to do this to your body, yet you insist on pushing things. First the charged attack, now this. Do you have some affinity for self-harm that you're trying to keep secret?"

He stuck his tongue out at her. "I'm just cultivating resistance."

"To fire," she said, sounding dubious.

"Yep."

She closed her eyes and frowned, and he wondered if she had just developed a migraine.

"Iroza… You are _already_ resistant to fire."

He preened. "Thank you for noticing."

"Because you're a firebender," she continued as if she was talking to a small child. "That's how it works. You have resistance already."

"And soon I'll have more," he said with a grin. "As long as there's give, I'll push. I'm totally good."

She crossed her arms, unimpressed by his teasing and bravado. "It just seems remarkably unsafe. Even for you."

"I'm totally safe. Super safe. Master what's-his-name is supervising and it's been going fine," he said indignantly. He and Azula looked over at his master, who looked gravely insulted for some reason.

Iroza waved.

"And how many masters have you gone through already? Five? Ten?" she asked.

It was a rhetorical question, of course. She knew better than him, and he didn't really pay any attention to his babysitters anymore.

"Not my fault. You're the one who keeps insisting I replace them."

"Because you insist on choosing fools."

He grinned and threw a friendly arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. "I insist on choosing people who won't try and stop me from maxing out my firebending potential, dear sister."

"As I said, fools," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet as she roughly dug her fingers into his ribs.

Hiding a wince, he released her and went to retrieve the rest of his clothes.

"Still, I suppose congratulations are in order," she said, her annoyed look giving way to a much more familiar smirk.

"Really?" He tilted his head at her, still smiling despite the feeling that something was up. "That sounds vaguely ominous. Do tell."

"For one, you haven't managed to cripple yourself yet, though you've come close."

He scoffed and waved her off. "Bah, we've been over that. Wasn't even my fault. It was that other guy's fault whose name I don't remember."

"And for another," she went on, not deigning to acknowledge his masterful deflection because she was stubborn and mean. "It seems your extra-curricular training has managed to impress our lord father."

Oh. _Oh_. That didn't sound good.

Iroza blinked, the ache in his arms forgotten for now. "Impress? _Me?_ That's…"

Concerning, actually.

Attention from Ozai was bad, bad news, as a rule.

"Well _,_ " she said, stretching out the word and sounding far too casual for his liking. " _Impress_ is perhaps too strong of a word. He noticed, once your master brought it up a few times, and he may have said something that could be interpreted as praise to someone like you."

"Praise," he repeated dryly, a knot starting to form in the pit of his stomach. "Is that devious sister doublespeak for something awful? It must be."

"I _would_ tell you, but," she quickly trailed off, her impish smirk fading as she got a faraway look in her eyes. She shook her head. "Ah, but it wouldn't be fair for me to spoil the surprise. The two of us are expected to meet with him shortly."

That emotional shift was concerning.

"I'll prepare myself for the worst," he said. It was extremely easy.

Azula then smiled a dazzling smile, carefully manufactured to convey both mockery and something vaguely resembling affection to someone who had read about the word in a dictionary once. The knot in his stomach tightened by quite a bit. Her smiles were terrifying, and she definitely knew it.

"You aren't helping, Zula," he whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, spirits. I'm dead, aren't I? He's decided it's time for me to die a death of a thousand lectures on propriety."

She laughed, and it was just as scary. "Of course not, dear brother. Don't be so _dramatic._ "

Entirely unconvinced, he followed her back into the palace halls.

***

The throne room. Just as dour and fiery as ever.

As always their father insisted on not wearing a shirt, a robe, or anything to cover up his torso. And to be fair, he was impressively muscled. But he was their dad, and Iroza still thought it was weird and showy.

Anyway, the true reason he was shirtless was probably that it was so damn hot. Having the throne be surrounded by fire all the time was intimidating, sure, but it came at a high cost. Iroza was a firebender too… But goddamn. Even he enjoyed chilling out sometimes.

Being the favored daughter, Azula approached the throne and knelt first.

"You summoned us, father."

Iroza followed shortly after, already starting to detach himself from the situation.

Basically a habit at this point.

There was no immediate response. A minute passed. Iroza saw Azula's face twitch out of the corner of his eye. It was just a power play. A reminder that they waited on him, on his beck and call, and would keep waiting on him. Much of the man's face was shrouded by flame, but Iroza could still feel his gaze shift over the two of them. Watching. Judging

As always, Iroza's face was carefully blank. A caricature of obedience.

"Azula, my daughter," he said eventually, his voice warm and powerful. "My time spent personally overseeing your training has borne much fruit. The sages say, and I would agree, that you are the most talented firebender of your generation. You have brought honor and glory to the Fire Nation, and to me."

Of _course_ he couldn't just come out and say he was proud of her. Iroza resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was a near thing.

Azula stiffened, fighting off a smile and bowing her head.

"You honor me, father."

Iroza was nearly surprised but still managed to be as unsurprised as usual. Azula was smart, but she was also too willing to believe in their father's sincerity. He couldn't really blame her. She was only fourteen.

Then Ozai's attention truly shifted.

"Iroza," he said, and his voice was nearly the same. Little ticks and changes to his tone gave it away. He was as uninterested in his son as ever, and Iroza wouldn't be fooled to think otherwise. "Word has reached my ears, from your master and the sages, that you have made much headway in overcoming your… _Weakness_. This is true?"

"Yes, father."

He smiled slightly, sounding amused. "It's even been said that you may be worthy of being called a master, like your sister."

Iroza kept silent.

"I admit… I find myself doubting this claim, given your past performance," he said, trailing off into a mirthful chuckle which neither of his children joined in on. He looked back at Azula. "Azula. Your power and prowess as a firebender is without question, and you are among those who have recently seen the limits of what your brother is capable of."

Ah, so that was the play. What a dick.

"So tell me," he said, all traces of warmth now gone from his voice. "In your eyes, has your brother displayed sufficient skill? Has he earned the honor you have achieved?"

Asshole.

Iroza didn't look at his sister nervously, or at all. He knew what she would say. It was a foregone conclusion.

She didn't hesitate.

"No, father. I don't believe so. But he is close."

He appreciated the bit at the end, at least.

It was a test. Every word exchanged with the man was, in his experience. Claiming he was ready for mastery was the same as disagreeing with their father. Something both Iroza and their father knew she wouldn't do.

Ozai sighed, feigning disappointment. "That is unfortunate. Having another of my children achieve mastery at such a young age would be… For the best." He hummed, pretending to seriously think about it. Then he tilted his head in a way that Iroza found particularly annoying. "It seems we might be forced to wait on the return of Zuko for that."

Idly, Iroza wondered how quickly he could cross the gap and fail to kill the man.

Fairly quickly, he'd wager.

At this point, he was just waiting to be ridiculed a bit more before being dismissed. These meetings were all the same.

"Of course, this is unacceptable."

Despite his composure, Iroza's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Eldest of my children he may be, Zuko is disgraced and banished. Any achievements of his do not bring honor to our family, because he is without honor until his task is complete." That last bit was just unnecessary. Zuko wasn't even there to be teased. "And yet, despite his banishment, he is well tutored and likely to achieve mastery in his own right. The Dragon of the West oversees his training personally."

Mostly tuning his father out, Iroza resisted the urge to sigh. He sort of missed Iroh, honestly. His uncle was annoyingly cryptic and far too upbeat, but he was a solid teacher. The day he had left with Zuko was a sad one.

Iroza had started cycling through instructors soon after that.

Probably for the best. Zuko needed someone like that to ground him and keep him from going too far off the deep end of angst.

It was funny, but at times he was jealous of his older brother. Banishment bad, sure. But also; high seas adventure with no tangible responsibilities. Also not having to see their father anymore.

Oh well.

In another life, maybe.

Eventually, his father got off of the Zuko tangent, and once more started talking about something Iroza gave any shits about.

"Azula says you are close to achieving mastery. I am prone to believe her. Yet I also find myself impatient. Your pace of learning has been slow since you began bending, despite your dedication to it," he said, and Iroza almost tuned out again in the face of another rant about how inferior he was.

His father's next words jolted him right back to reality.

"My solution is simple. You will do more than merely bear witness to the war our nation has fought for nearly a century. You will taste battle and bloodshed, serving under one of my most distinguished servants." He paused, then smiled a small and cruel smile. "Call it a trial by fire."

Ugh. Bad Ozai. No more puns.

***

A few days went by. There were well-wishes by palace staff and prominent nobles who would drop in and out for meetings with Ozai. Congratulations and words of advice from his master, who was nice enough that Iroza decided that he might actually miss the man. Whatever his name was. There was also a bit of packing which he had no real part in.

But most of all, there was brooding.

Not _real_ brooding. Fake brooding for posers and hipsters, like him. He just enjoyed fresh air and solitude.

To that end, he sat on the uppermost roof of the palace. The highest point of the structure he could find. Getting there involved no small amount of climbing, and just a bit of the ol' fire-hand iron man double-jump assist.

He sat cross-legged on the edge of the roof, watching the sun go down.

It was cold and lonely, just how he liked it.

He was _not_ brooding.

He was just thinking about his life. It was hard not to, especially with such big changes on the horizon. He would be serving under a general over in some occupied Earth Kingdom territory, apparently. If he had to guess, he would likely be subjugating smaller towns and villages, taking down earthbenders when they showed up, and slowly tightening the noose around Ba Sing Se.

Azula had been more snide than usual since the official announcement. Seemingly torn between making light of his new assignment, and subtly probing him for information and demanding he maintain a regular correspondence with her.

He couldn't help but grin at that.

She was _definitely_ jealous.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Iroza could hear the tell-tale sounds of annoyed grunts and fiery blasts that heralded his sister's arrival.

Turning to look behind him, he offered an enthusiastic golf clap as she shot up over the edge of the roof, fire and smoke trailing behind her. Pulling off a flawless superhero landing, she sighed.

"Must you keep finding more and more annoying spots to brood?"

He was _not_ brooding. Was that so hard to accept?

"Fun climb, I take it?" he said cheekily.

She pointedly ignored him, straightening up and smoothing the creases out of her clothes.

Boo, stubborn silence was lame.

"You know, if I wasn't so secure in my top-tier masculinity, I might be annoyed at how easy you made that look."

Azula rolled her eyes, making her way across the roof to join him. "I would advise you to reexamine your idea of 'top-tier' masculinity if that's the case. Not mistaking arrogance for self-confidence, and all that."

Ah, snide insults. Much better.

"Arrogance. Confidence." He shrugged. "It's all part of the persona, dear sister."

She didn't answer. Instead, she sat down beside him with a huff, leaning back on her arms and dangling her legs over the side.

"Your ship leaves tomorrow," she said, glaring out into the middle-distance.

Iroza had no witty reply to that.

"Yeah," he said quietly, scratching his cheek.

"Off to Earth Kingdom, and the war."

He nodded.

"You'll earn prestige and acclaim," she said, almost sounding as though she was talking to herself. "Once you prove yourself in the field, father ought to recognize you as a master."

"Do you?" At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "Do you think I'm at that level?"

"No," she said flatly, ignoring his frustrated groan. "Don't whine. You've only yourself to blame, hampering your own progress all these years. The fact that you're up for mastery at all is surprising, especially given your unusual style."

"I'm an innovator, what can I say," he said with a grin, shooting a triumphant fist towards the sky. "One day all firebenders will know the name of Iroza, the father of fire-edging!"

Azula closed her eyes, muttering something like a frustrated prayer. "Sometimes I wonder if you even attended our lessons on royal etiquette."

"Of course I did."

"Yes, _I_ _know_. We attended them together. Hence my confusion." She shook her head. "In any case, I was more referring to your obsession with minute control and resistance. And I suppose that does extend to your… Original technique."

He snickered at her hesitation to even acknowledge it. "It'll pay off eventually. Probably."

"One can only hope."

A silence took hold at that point. They sat together watching as the sun began to dip behind the horizon, leaving the sky orange in its wake. The warmth of the sun slowly left with it.

Ships left the harbor, and ships arrived. One of those ships would be ferrying him away in the morning. He wasn't sure which one, and he honestly couldn't be bothered to check. Azula knew, no doubt. She had likely looked up the name, family history, and service record of every person on board.

But she would never admit it, and he would never put his well-being at risk by asking.

Without looking, he bumped shoulders with her.

After a few seconds, she reciprocated.

For a while, that was all there was. No teasing or sarcastic praise. No jokes or insults. No talking about their father, or wondering what their older brother was up to. No dumb arguments about his bending, or bragging about hers.

 _Definitely_ no emotional confiding, tearful goodbyes, or promises of coming back in one piece.

Never that.

Just sitting in companionable silence, watching the world happen.


	3. Chapter 3

The first few legs of his journey started out normal enough.  
  
Nearly two weeks at sea, where his invincible ironclad stomach was put to the test. Surrounded by faceless soldiers and sailors. No one he would ever willingly talk to, of course. Nationalists and suckups, the lot of them.  
  
He busied himself with firebending, and no one was surprised.  
  
Then two weeks and change spent traveling by foot. Well, partly by foot. For the first few days he was sequestered off into a lavish and princely carriage which he _despised,_ but walking had very quickly gotten old. Honestly, Earth Kingdom roads were the worst. Talk about irony.  
  
The fact that it was actually _occupied_ Earth Kingdom wasn’t lost on him.  
  
He just wanted to bitch about something.  
  
After walking lost its rugged charm, he had settled for commandeering the front of the carriage. Still awful. But not as bad as sitting inside. The stink-eye he had gotten from the coachman was hilarious, and his one-sided conversation with the dragon moose pulling him along had been lovely.  
  
He had needed _some_ kind of distraction.  
  
Call it paranoia, but he was starting to feel twitchy. Always looking around with narrowed eyes.  
  
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
The farther out into Earth Kingdom he got, the more on edge he felt.  
  
His guard detail would switch up whenever he changed hands. Once when his ship made port in one of the colonies. Once more after reaching some landmark town. Then every so often after that, he’d once again find himself in the company of completely different soldiers.  
  
They were _weird_.  
  
And they only got weirder every time Iroza was handed off.  
  
His guard details became less rigid, looser, and likely to chitchat on duty. Their arms and armor were older and in less than pristine condition.  
  
They were… _Casual_.  
  
It was creepy and he didn’t like it.  
  
Fire Nation soldiers were meant to be infallible, silent, and intimidating.  
  
These guys might as well have been cosplayers.  
  
It was definitely suspicious. Iroza quickly learned to sleep with one eye open, as it were.  
  
What was the play here? Would it be an assassination attempt? A slit throat by night and a body thrown into a river by morning? Poison was possible. Kidnapping… Doubtful, but not something he could dismiss out of hand.  
  
It wasn’t paranoia if someone really was out to get him.  
  
And his father _was_ out to get him.  
  
Probably.  
  
The slimy bastard.  
  
He eventually realized what was happening, though it did take a lot longer than he was comfortable admitting.  
  
Much as Iroza hated giving the man any credit, Ozai’s plan was fairly ingenious. Send his troublesome son deep into occupied Earth Kingdom. Stationed in a backwater city. A backwater province, really. Nowhere near the fabled city of Ba Sing Se, but close enough to its territories that it wasn’t too obvious that the prince was being gently ushered out of the way.  
  
Everywhere Iroza looked, he saw towns and villages that had been flying Fire Nation colors for well over twenty years. Maybe longer.  
  
This wasn’t _truly_ Fire Nation territory.  
  
Heck, it might never be. Locals were all too stubborn.  
  
But it wasn’t exactly being fought over at the moment, either.  
  
No signs of recent battles, no glory to be won, and no obvious way to prove himself worthy of mastery by participating in the war with Earth Kingdom. The whole _official_ reason he had been sent out in the first place.  
  
That was most likely the point.  
  
Yet even that realization wasn’t enough for him to put his guard down.  
  
Not entirely, at any rate.  
  
Sure, the assignment was innocuous enough. But this was still contested territory. He was miles and miles from home, surrounded by strangers and foreigners. Weird strangers, at that. Azula wasn’t there for him to jape and talk with, and any letters he wrote had to be formal in the extreme. Doubtless, they were all being read by Ozai or at least reported to him.  
  
Her letters were equally formal, which was as much confirmation as he needed.  
  
Correspondence with Azula was still something he looked forward to, despite their lack of overt personality. Azula had a way with words, such that she more than managed to call him a crazed buffoon with the blandest, most inconspicuous language possible.  
  
In comparison, his own responding letter could be aptly summed up as ‘no, you.’  
  
Not very articulate, but very effective in annoying her.  
  
And really, that was its own reward.  
  
After over a month of nonstop travel, he _finally_ arrived at Wan Bhing. The journey was basically over. And as he laid eyes upon the city for the first time, he could only think of one thing to say.  
  
“What a shithole.”  
  
He heard some offended grumbling from some of his soldier escorts, but their opinions meant less than nothing to him.  
  
Besides, it was true.  
  
Time spent occupied by the Fire Nation had not been kind to Wan Bhing.  
  
He snorted.  
  
Almost a full century of war hadn’t been kind to _anyone_.  
  
But being so close to it had taken its toll here.  
  
True; the high stone walls that were customary of Earth Kingdom cities, whitewashed with limestone every five or so years, were quite the sight to behold.  
  
From a distance.  
  
But as his party approached the gates, the cracks were already starting to show.  
  
Iroza ignored the worried glances he got as he cackled.  
  
It was a strange problem to have, he mused. Earthbenders put up the walls, and kept them in good repair, with barely any effort. Well, the earthbenders were gone now. In hiding, imprisoned, or fighting against the Fire Nation forces from the safety of Ba Sing Se. So what could the Fire Nation garrison do with the walls? In a low-priority place like this?  
  
The answer was wood, apparently.  
  
Wooden repairs on the walls, on the houses. Everywhere. Wood, wood, wood. Just slap it on whenever something breaks. Doesn’t matter what.  
  
For fucks sake, the repairs weren’t even well-done.  
  
Non-bending stonemasons were hard to come by in these parts, from the looks of it. In fact, being so close to the war had probably driven most of the capable craftsmen and laborers off to safer work in the colonies.  
  
The smart ones, at least.  
  
Most of the houses wore the wooden look better, the ones he could see outside the walls at least, being largely made by non-benders to begin with. Iroza was half-surprised they weren’t patching up the streets with wood. He wouldn’t put it past them.  
  
Even so, he tried to look on the bright side.  
  
So what if his new home away from home was an impoverished shithole?  
  
His road trip was still over.  
  
He could finally take his place in the military chain of command, wherever that place was, and start doing something productive. Leading patrols, rooting out bandits, overseeing more shoddy repairs, or digging goddamn latrines.  
  
At this point he could not care less. Really.  
  
He was about ready to explode into action if someone so much looked at him funny. That wasn’t even the paranoia speaking anymore.  
  
He was just bored to tears.  
  
It was a shame he had figured out his father’s plan so easily.  
  
At least paranoia was _fun_.  
  
This was just… Well, boring.  
  
And annoying. He had wasted _far_ too much time trying to plan for some sinister scheme. One that never happened. All of his worrywarting had been for nothing. The sleepless nights, time spent devising escape routes, coming up with conspiracy theories, and thinking about where he would go when shit hit the fan.  
  
Totally meaningless.  
  
Boring and annoying. Yeah. That summed up his mission so far.  
  
As they approached the entrance to the city, he was almost hoping some asshole would come and take a swing at him, just so he could feel vindicated and vent at the same time.  
  
That would probably be a bad first impression, though.  
  
So when he passed through the gates, only to be bombarded with cheers and the thunderous chanting of his name from whole throngs of people, Iroza only barely managed to suppress his newly-awakened desire to kill. A flinch and his hands briefly tightening into fists, to remind himself that being startled was _not_ a valid reason to start burninating the countryside, were the only tells that made it through.  
  
He waved at the crowd, donning a smile that probably looked prince-like.  
  
This time he was ready for the noise, though he was still only able to pick up a few pieces out of the fresh tidal wave of obnoxious screaming he was assaulted with.  
  
“Prince Iroza!”  
  
“He’s here! Look, there he is! It’s the prince!”  
  
“I love you!”  
  
His smile became a bit strained, what with all the bile in his throat.  
  
Ugh. Groupies.  
  
Things continued like that for a handful of minutes, perhaps the worst minutes of his entire life if he was feeling hyperbolic, before he was finally approached by someone who had even the barest hint of decorum about them.  
  
A tall, spindly looking man with a strangely elegant black beard grown halfway down his chest. All dressed up in robes that were fine, but not _too_ fine.  
  
“Prince Iroza,” he said reverently, stepping into a low bow. “What an honor! I am Ji, representative of our most noble governor, General Rama. On his behalf, allow me to be the first to personally welcome you to the great city of Wan Bhing. We are, all of us, deeply honored and humbled by your presence.”  
  
Iroza suppressed a sigh.  
  
This was going to be a whole thing, wasn’t it?  
  
Dredging up his best courtly manners, he motioned for the man to rise. “The honor is mine. Tales of Wan Bhing reach far and wide, and my lord father speaks highly of General Rama. I am eager to work with him.”  
  
Iroza had literally only heard the man’s name once in his life before this.  
  
From Azula, the day before he had left.  
  
“He will be pleased to hear it. The general has done much to prepare for your arrival,” he said, delicately coughing into a fist and gesturing to his carriage. The dragon moose at the head of it looked twitchy from all the noise and attention. Iroza could relate. “By your leave, I will accompany you in your carriage to the general’s mansion at the center of the city.”  
  
He quickly closed his eyes so he could roll them in private.  
  
It _was_ going to be a whole thing.  
  
“Of course, that sounds wonderful,” he said, with a smile and a nod as he turned and stepped up into his carriage. Going in first allowed him to drop his smile without looking like a psychopath. Strategy.  
  
Ji climbed in shortly after, sitting opposite him and pulling the curtains back. Sunlight and a simply _delectable_ urban fragrance filled the carriage.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at the man.  
  
Quickly noticing the look, Ji chortled. “My prince, the people long to see you! The general has spread the word of your arrival, raising their spirits, and they’ve been close to rioting with excitement.”  
  
So everyone knew he was here? Joy. That wouldn’t complicate things at all.  
  
He gave a clipped nod.  
  
Whatever. Happy thoughts. This would be over soon.  
  
Ji reached back and rapped his fist against the wall. The carriage started forward with a lurch and a gruff command from the new coachman.  
  
Iroza grimaced internally. The roads were _still_ bumpy.  
  
Resigned to being the center of attention for a while, his gaze wandered back to the crowd. Nowhere else to look, really. He already felt himself leaving the situation in his mind, but the royal demeanor remained. Impeccable. The facade of posh dignity.  
  
More cheers from the commoners as they basked in his attention. Grinning and laughing, many of them holding banners and booze, and all of them dressed in colorful clothing. There was also music. They passed different troupes with different crowds surrounding them as the carriage continued on down the road. They passed through a large marketplace, with games and even more revelry.  
  
It was all very festive.  
  
Iroza could only assume a local holiday was underway.  
  
“Seems I’ve interrupted quite the party. What’s the occasion?” he said, glancing over at his escort with a joking smile. “Not just for me, I assume?”  
  
“But of course, your highness!” Ji responded immediately, gesturing out to the festivities with fervor. “General Rama has arranged this festival in your honor! All of this has been meticulously planned in the weeks leading up to your arrival. A welcome surprise, I hope.”  
  
What.  
  
Iroza blinked, narrowing his eyes at the man to make sure he wasn’t just bad at sarcasm.  
  
“Really? That seems…” He tilted his head. “Expensive.”  
  
“Anything less would have been an insult to your honor, and ours,” Ji said with a nod, beaming at Iroza’s baffled expression.  
  
He blinked again, looking out at the festivities more skeptically.  
  
A whole festival?  
  
He hadn’t _done_ anything.  
  
It was just a military assignment.  
  
So why? Was General Rama really so eager to make a good first impression?  
  
He poked his head out the window, looking up at the road ahead. On it stretched, all the way to the center of the city. He could barely _see_ the center, but it was there. Economic hardships hadn’t changed the sheer size of the city. And all along the road, from what he could tell, were more and more festivities. Lights. Decorations. Booze and merriment. Lots of people dressed to impress, cheering his name, and having a lovely time.  
  
Forget expensive. This was _excessive_.  
  
He might expect something like this for the Fire Lord. But for him?  
  
What was the angle, here? What could be gained from flaunting wealth in a city known for lacking it?  
  
The first, most likely answer was to curry favor with a member of the royal family. It made sense. Although he was surprised to see the general commit so much to it.  
  
That much was obvious, but there was more to it than that.  
  
Rama might be showing off, but it wasn’t a flex of superiority. The festival was apparently dedicated to Iroza, so using it to intimidate him wouldn’t jive at all with that. If Ozai was visiting, flexing would make more sense. A military parade would be the best way to impress him.  
  
But seeing as the local soldiers were _actively participating_ in the merriment…  
  
Goddamn amateurs.  
  
Well, Iroza doubted that was what Rama was doing.  
  
They might be trying to strategically flaunt their wealth, as opposed to their military, which could inspire important people to take an interest in the economy. Nobles, or people like him and his father.  
  
But again, it didn’t _fit._  
  
There were no stalls selling goods unique to the city, or the province, either along the road or in the marketplace. It was just a party. Tourism would be a valid guess, except no one with money would ever visit a poor city so close to the war for kicks.  
  
Part of Ji’s earlier words gave him another angle to consider. Raising people's spirits. Wan Bhing _was_ poor and close to the fighting. It had been for years now. That had to be depressing. Give the people something to celebrate, get them good and drunk, and Rama could cultivate a lot of goodwill with the people. Ease unrest in the province.  
  
Bread and circuses.  
  
Throwing a big party to distract the commoners. Solid plan. A pretty good one, even. But Rama hardly needed an excuse like a visit from royalty. He could have done this at any time. Heck, he likely did this with some regularity. If not at this scale.  
  
So where did Iroza fit in with this?  
  
As it came to him, his eyes deadened and he valiantly resisted the urge to sigh.  
  
Throw a big party. Dedicate it to the arrival of a member of the royal family. A young, impressionable member. Dazzle him with the spectacle of it all. Show him a good time. Enamor him with the city. Wasn’t Wan Bhing just delightful? A true diamond in the rough of the Fire Nation. Oh yes, he would be _sure_ to tell his lord father all about it when he returned home.  
  
What a joke.  
  
With that in mind, a lot of the hedonism on display lost its luster for him. Hard to take it seriously with his new bias.  
  
Still, Iroza had to roll with it.  
  
He had his own reputation to worry about, especially seeing as he was only here in a military capacity. Iroza was a prince. But General Rama was still his superior. Him, and whoever else he might be assigned to work under. Being an angsty, annoyed teenager wouldn’t be conducive to a good working relationship with the man.  
  
Even if he _was_ feeling angsty and annoyed.  
  
Which he was. Very much so.  
  
Honestly, who the hell did this guy think he was? Trying to butter him up—  
  
He bit his tongue.  
  
Whatever, whatever, _whatever._  
  
Good first impressions were important. Forget Rama’s roundabout attempts to impress him. He needed to focus on _his_ attempts to impress Rama. Or at least start out on the right foot. Impressing him was probably more work than he was willing to commit to, going by how far the general had gone, but tailoring his own reaction to the party in a positive light… That could do a lot of the legwork in getting Rama to work with him.  
  
Because even if Iroza was royalty, he was still here on assignment. He had a reason to be here. Prove himself in the military chain of command and earn his firebending mastery… Somehow.  
  
Even though neither of those things meant much to him.  
  
Proving his worth to his father?  
  
As if he would stoop so low. Who was he, Zuko?  
  
That was slightly harsh, but there was a stark difference between the two of them.  
  
Okay. To be fair, earning his mastery meant a _little_ to him.  
  
But only a little!  
  
Mastery in the Fire Nation was the equivalent of a college diploma, but for firebending. Anyone could achieve a level worthy of mastery and never be recognized as one by way of the ‘official’ channels. Ozai and the Fire Sages.  
  
It was a lot of politics and nepotism.  
  
Go figure.  
  
So Iroza had never been all that enthused about pursuing it. The approval of his father, the Fire Sages, and the Fire Nation aristocracy? Didn’t mean much.  
  
Firebending was great, and he enjoyed it, but all the politics around it were boring and lame.  
  
Not to say he wasn’t trying, just that he wanted to get it over with.  
  
Plus, when he _did_ earn his mastery, hopefully soon, then maybe Azula would finally stop passive-aggressively nagging about his and bragging about hers.  
  
He snorted.  
  
Well, it was a nice thought.  
  
His stunted growth in bending wasn’t even his fault, honestly. It was Ozai’s. Sure, he could feasibly blame most bad things in his life on the man, but that, in particular, was absolutely his fault. Iroza had maybe been the tiniest bit stubborn. Azula had said as much, and who was he to disagree? But seeing his father near apoplectic in rage, while Iroza refused every opportunity to stoke his own inner flame on that man’s say-so?  
  
Priceless.  
  
As for getting back home…  
  
Well, Iroza didn't love the thought of leaving Azula alone with their father.  
  
Not one bit.  
  
He bit the inside of his cheek, distracting himself by looking back at the festivities.  
  
It would be fine. He'd get home soon.  
  
The carriage continued its agonizingly-paced journey through Wan Bhing. A city that was, unfortunately, properly city-sized. Iroza struggled to keep his eyes open through most of it. Ji seemed content to babble on about the virtues of the city, how wonderful its people were, and how the place had truly blossomed under Fire Nation rule.  
  
It was a bit much, honestly.  
  
Then they finally, _finally_ arrived at the governor’s mansion… General’s estate. Whateverville.  
  
Predictably lavish, the most festive decorations so far, and lots of stairs and stone walkways. Servants and guards all lined up and dressed up as the carriage pulled up. A few noble families. Local ones, most likely. Fire Nation banners and emblems flying high and proud, and only the most skilled and spotless of their retinue in the front-most formation. Very well put-together.  
  
He suppressed a yawn.  
  
As royalty, Iroza was pretty much numb to extravagant displays of wealth and power. It sounded arrogant, and it kinda was, but that was his reality.  
  
Something, something, privilege.  
  
Something, something, silver spoon.  
  
As Ji stepped out of the carriage to loudly, and unnecessarily, announce his arrival for everyone present, Iroza rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
No sense in putting his boredom and travel fatigue on display.  
  
“Presenting his grace, the son of Fire Lord Ozai and here on his behalf, Prince Iroza!”  
  
Calling upon years of practice, he stood up, straightened his back, and eased a smile onto his face that made him look about three years younger and far nicer than he was. Boyish, but still refined.  
  
His best Zuko impersonation.  
  
Well… Pre-burning Zuko, maybe. Iroza didn’t know for sure, but he doubted his brother had much to smile about these days.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
Not the time to daydream about his brother’s seven seas cruise.  
  
As Ji respectfully gestured for him to take his place in the spotlight, Iroza firmly pulled his mind back into the present and stepped out of the carriage. A princely and naive smile on his face, his eyes full of wonder, and a song in his heart.  
  
Not that it mattered at first. Everyone was silent and bowing deep and low. No one was looking up to appreciate his flawless facade.  
  
It was proper etiquette for receiving royalty.  
  
Eerie as ever, but proper.  
  
Walking forward, up several shallow tiers of stairs, he approached who he assumed to be the general. Still bowing, all of them. A woman was especially close to him, but behind and to the side. His wife, maybe. Iroza didn’t pay her much mind, let alone the rest of the nobles. They were all arrayed behind Rama, likely sorted by rank and favor. Some even had their kids with them.  
  
As he idly looked around at the bowed heads, he paused. That head of black hair was weirdly familiar.  
  
Was that…?  
  
Someone cleared their throat softly from the crowd. He couldn’t tell who it was, but it brought him back to the moment.  
  
Damn. Good job not getting distracted, dummy.  
  
“Please. Rise, General Rama.”  
  
With a grunt, the general rose to his feet, followed by his retinue and the delegation of nobles.  
  
Was that the proper thing to say? Maybe not. He was still a little distracted.  
  
If anyone noticed, they wisely said nothing of it.  
  
Oh, look at the young prince! He’s so awed and flustered by our impressive courtyard formation and decadent festival. He’s so cute and naive. We must be making him oh so nervous.  
  
Iroza hated them already and had half a mind to write them all off as suckups and title-seekers.  
  
Then he got a good second look at them.  
  
Not to say that he went slack-jawed. No, he wasn’t _that_ careless.  
  
His royal posh demeanor did waver the tiniest bit, though.  
  
He wasn’t quite sure what, but something had distracted him. Again.  
  
Damn fatigue.  
  
The nobles were all fairly standard fare, as far as nobles went. Definitely lower-tier, by Fire Nation standards. But this was occupied Earth Kingdom, so perhaps that was to be expected.  
  
Even General Rama himself wasn’t much to look at. Portly, thinly bearded and bald-headed, slightly taller than Iroza, and looking both too-serious and on the verge of laughing at a moment's notice.  
  
Despite himself, Iroza continued to zone out through their brief conversation. An honor to meet you, my father has said nothing but praise for your administration, yada yada.  
  
At some point Rama picked up on his wandering attention, asking him if he was well.  
  
Iroza chuckled nervously. “Aha. My apologies, general. The road has left me weary. I fear I won’t make for very good company at the moment.”  
  
Good excuse, brain.  
  
A pause, then Rama laughed a boisterous laugh. “Of course! How foolish of me. How shortsighted! A month of travel from the capital. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten what kind of toll that trip takes on a man. Your room has already been prepared, meeting only our highest standards. As is worthy of a prince.”  
  
Iroza _valiantly_ resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
Laying it on a bit thick, eh Rama?  
  
“We hope you will recover soon. Then we can proceed with our plans,” he said.  
  
Right. That sounded important.  
  
Iroza tilted his head at him. “Which plans are those? I don’t believe I was informed.”  
  
“The plans for the feast!” he said, smiling wide and spreading his arms. “Preparations are well underway and should be finished within the week. Enough time for you to get your bearings. As well as a bit of sleep, eh?”  
  
“Feast?” Iroza repeated, feeling faint and determined not to show it.  
  
Yeah. He definitely wasn’t informed.  
  
Rama nodded firmly. “In honor of your arrival, naturally. I hope it’s a pleasant surprise, though I may have fumbled the delivery.” He looked over and gestured to the woman behind him. “Just as well I wasn’t overseeing the details of it all myself! That duty was taken up by my lady wife, Yzoko. She’s done a marvelous job, as you’ll see when the feast takes place.”  
  
Iroza turned and offered her a polite bow and words of thanks, even as he was tearing his hair out on the inside.  
  
“I was all too happy to take up the task,” she said demurely, smiling slightly at her husband. “Especially in light of the occasion. A special announcement for the feast, wasn’t it?”  
  
He grumbled.  
  
“Would this be about my position in your ranks, general?” Iroza asked, struggling to contain his curiosity. And his exasperation.  
  
“Yes,” he said, shooting a half-hearted scowl at his wife. She stifled a laugh and looked away. “But no more early surprises! We’ll do this all properly, as is done in the capital…” He paused, giving Iroza a hesitant look. “Unless you would prefer to know now, your grace?”  
  
Iroza struggled. He really did. Everything about this feast sounded awful, and he really wanted to get his appointment out of the way so he could finally jump into his role as… Whatever his role was.  
  
But, unfortunately, his burning desire clashed with common sense and etiquette.  
  
After what felt like an age, he shook his head. “I’ll play along. Wait until the feast, as you planned. I’m sure it will be a wonderful affair. I can hardly wait!”  
  
Being cheerful was harder than he thought.  
  
It seemed to work, though. General Rama brightened immediately.  
  
“It will be the talk of the province. No, the whole of Fire Nation! You’ll not be disappointed, Prince Iroza. Just you wait and see, this festival was only the beginning!”  
  
With that, he hobbled off. Iroza only now recognized that he favored his right leg, and felt a little foolish for keeping them all bowing for so long.  
  
Oh well.  
  
Yzoko bowed and called for their best guards to escort him to his chambers, before following after Rama.  
  
With that, the nobles began to disperse. A few of them seemed to consider approaching him for the time-honored tradition of being deplorable suckups, and one or two did manage to gather enough courage to offer some quick greetings. But it seems the majority of them got the memo that the prince was tired, and most likely _not in the mood._  
  
Wise choice, lads.  
  
Now that he could take a second to breathe, he had another look at the nobles and their families. Passing glances, no lingering looks. Nothing to give them the impression he was looking at _them_ in particular. Just a scan, to make sure he wasn’t crazy.  
  
Ah.  
  
Yep. He wasn’t crazy.  
  
There she was, standing with her family and trying to look like she wasn’t with them. It was improper to stare, and doubly so to stare at royalty, but he caught her glancing his way once or twice. She’d noticed his look as well, judging by how she turned away and crossed her arms.  
  
He sighed.  
  
Tossing a few polite words of farewell to whoever had been talking at him, he turned and made his way up the rest of the steps towards the mansion.  
  
His two newly assigned escorts trailed behind him, only speaking in short sentences when he asked for directions. Probably the best of the lot, going by Iroza’s impressions of the rank and file so far.  
  
As he walked, he brooded.  
  
He also started dictating an annoyed letter to Azula in his head.  
  
It was just one thing after another, wasn’t it? Sent from home on a week’s notice. A month of traveling with no one to talk to. Not enough time to make any real progress with his bending. And now he was here in Wan Bhing, ready to take up his duties and prove himself so he could go home. Now he had to wait a week to even find out what those duties _were_. And that would only be after this feast they were planning.  
  
This wasn’t even a proper military deployment, and yet it was already the worst field trip Iroza had ever been on.  
  
Whatever.  
  
Another week, and he could finally start doing something.  
  
He could handle that.  
  
In the meantime, he could rest up and train his bending. Enough to pass the time, at least.  
  
Heck. If he got really bored, he could explore a little. Get the lay of the land. Get a feel for the situation. Maybe even talk to some of the people in charge to see how things were run around the city.  
  
Or he could talk to Mai.  
  
He cringed.  
  
No, really. It would be good to catch up, see how she and her family had been doing.  
  
It would be fine.  
  
Probably.  
  
Ugh.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey."

"Go away."

"Alright, I know we—"

"Now."

***

So his first attempt at talking to Mai hadn't gone _quite_ as planned.

From what he could tell, she wasn't really in the mood to talk. Or hang out. At all. With him or anyone else, but _especially_ not with him. She wasn't aggressively rude. But she was curt and to the point, and ignored almost all of his questions.

Mai _had_ readily credited Azula with asking her to come by letter. Passive-aggressively demanding that she come, really. Because Azula. But she had probably only said that much to cut off any of his teasing before it could start.

She was a spoilsport like that.

So their heartfelt reunion went about as well as could be expected.

Better, even.

She was a lot more restrained than when he had seen her last.

Back when Zuko…

Yeah.

Iroza sighed, taking comfort in the knowledge that it could have gone much, _much_ worse.

Then there was his correspondence with Azula.

His letter, polite and nondescript, with all of his annoyance impeccably encoded.

"What the fuck, Azula?"

And her responding letter, equally subtle.

"Are you braindead? The fuck did you expect me to do?"

He was paraphrasing heavily.

But he was annoyed, so whatever.

How had he described his journey to Wan Bhing? Boring and annoying?

Well, none of that had changed.

Even _after_ arriving.

He had been looking forward to getting his new orders and falling into a routine. Whatever that routine was, he was prepared to carry it out. Something to do. Something productive. Something that contributed to his goal of getting home and…

He grimaced, crossing his arms and looking down at the city streets from his balcony.

And all that.

A position of real authority, and whatever responsibilities came with that. A role he could embrace and act on, and feel as though he was accomplishing something.

Instead, he almost had less freedom than he ever had at the capital.

And wasn't _that_ a weird realization?

In the days leading up to the feast being held in his honor, he started noticing some… Oddities. Oddities in how he was treated.

He couldn't help but notice. Besides firebending, he had nothing of any worth to spend time on. So he spent that time thinking.

Something of a trend since he had left home.

But that embarrassing episode had been paranoia born out of boredom.

This was different.

Probably.

He was _pretty_ sure it was different.

The behavior was subtle.

Any kind of constraints or limitations surrounding him were hard to pin down and call out. Not something he could call out at _all_ , really. It even took a few separate occurrences for him to start taking his idle suspicion seriously. He had practice, but things were different here.

Once he was curious, he started testing.

Making some kind of request to Ji. Something outside of the admittedly extensive list of 'activities' that his guide loved to suggest to him.

From the naive…

"Oh, but I would _love_ to get out and explore parts of the city! Could I go without a guide? I want it to feel authentic."

"This side alley sure looks exciting. We ought to go there!"

To the slightly more testing…

"Could I perhaps leave the walls, explore some of the poorer districts?"

And finally the pointed, purpose-driven questions.

"I think it'd be good for me to meet some of the paper pushers. Become more comfortable with how your administration works. I want to help as best as I can!"

Still naive, but eager to help and prove himself.

Then he would watch while doing his best to not appear as though he was.

Little things tipped him off.

Tightening of the eyes. Stiffening of his smile. Shoulders going rigid, before quickly relaxing. Too quickly.

Then there was the customer service voice.

That cadence of forced cheer.

Neatly sidestepping the issue. Presenting a conveniently timed distraction. Knick-knacks and sweets. Games. A play from some local children, just for the prince! A tour of the estate. Fresh robes and a throng of noble heirs waiting to meet him.

No one ever said 'no' to Iroza.

Not outright.

Instead, they said 'how about.' Or 'what if we.' Sometimes 'I have this great idea.' All while gently leading him into something else.

And his role as a naive prince with no worldly knowledge meant that he had little choice but to go along with it. Let himself be distracted or deflected without making a fuss, or even letting on that he had noticed at all.

It was all very subtle, and very unlike living in the capital.

Back home in Capital City, his activities were strictly monitored and regulated without any subtlety whatsoever. Fire Lord Ozai had no need for subtlety. His word was law. Days and weeks of Iroza's life were meticulously planned out ahead of time, and his life was arranged without any input from him. Back there, any free time had to be stolen. Disappearing for a breather, alone, or to chill out with Azula, not thinking about the consequences until later.

Again, here it was different.

He was royalty. He was technically the most important person in the whole city. The whole province, even. And he was treated as such. He had complete freedom. Servants bowed to his whims, and General Rama was only ever a few minutes away. All of them were ready to listen to his requests. Anything for _you_ , Prince Iroza.

And yet, that right there was the rub.

Prince Iroza.

Not General Iroza.

Not _Crown_ Prince Iroza.

Not Fire Lord Iroza.

Prince Iroza.

His authority wasn't authority at all. It was deep respect. Admiration. Awe.

At most, it was borrowed authority from invoking his father's name.

Something he was loath to do.

He wasn't in charge here, and it would be foolish of him to act as though he was. Expecting everyone to fall over themselves to please him _just because_ he was a prince.

He was Prince Iroza, son of Fire Lord Ozai, and they would obey him, or else he would do something, maybe! He'd write to his father! Watch out!

He couldn't help but snort. Yeah. Even in his head, it sounded stupid.

More of a Zuko move.

Even if it worked, and it probably would, it was just too embarrassing…

He frowned.

There was also the chilling possibility that it _wouldn't_ work.

That was the thing.

True loyalty was hard to cultivate.

His great-grandfather Sozen had done it with his decisive opening moves in the hundred years war. As disgusting as those moves were. His grandfather Azulon had taken it all to new heights during his reign, raising the mythos of the Fire Lord and his family to a sort of cult-like status.

Ozai was doing it too.

But it was slow, and he had only been Fire Lord for a few years.

Heck, no one in Wan Bhing had ever even _seen_ the Fire Lord before. Maybe a few older ones had seen Azulon, once upon a time when his armies had taken the province and he did his little victory parade through the city.

The old man had enjoyed those.

But Fire Lord Ozai? Not a chance. When Ozai had ascended to Fire Lord, the mere thought of touring a place like Wan Bhing was probably laughable to him.

No point.

Iroza being here at all was a special occasion for these people. Something that never happened.

Look, royalty! A real prince was visiting!

He couldn't count on that curiosity lasting. The cult-like status of the royal family didn't extend to their occupied holdings. If anything, the attitude towards the Fire Lord was probably… Quite bad.

These were a lot of assumptions he was making.

But Iroza was cautious.

Caution fueled by his lessons as a prince, and his _older_ memories as a normie. What he could recall of Earth history. A lot was faded, but he had gone through a pretty typical education. Even up through part of university.

Wan Bhing was poor and weak. Fire Nation wasn't in danger of a rebellion.

But _Iroza_ could be in danger if something bad happened.

This wasn't Fire Nation.

He was a month away from the capital.

At least a week from the nearest colony.

The soldiers were locally grown. The sons and daughters of Earth Kingdom families who lived here before the province was taken. Even the most highly-trained of them had never been to the capital.

So Iroza would play it safe. Play _nice_. He had made a good first impression. Well… Eh. Good enough. Now he had to make that last as long as possible. Feel out the limits of what he could do without rocking the boat too much.

Until he could cement himself as someone more powerful than a fourteen-year-old boy with a nice smile and a solid pedigree.

For that, he had no real choice but to wait and endure the feast.

Eat the food. Smile and say the nice words. Laugh at the right jokes. Nod solemnly to their pleas or words of praise. Why yes, he _would_ take that into consideration. He would make sure to write to his father and tell him all about their wonderful ideas.

 _Hours_ of that.

He sighed, trying to rub away the headache he felt coming on.

Why couldn't anything ever be simple?

***

Iroza was starting to get sick of all this extravagance.

Like, _really_ sick.

It was all just too much. Candles and torches. Gleaming chandeliers. Carpets and curtains. Tapestries, tablecloths, and scores of nobles dressed in what _looked_ like tapestries and tablecloths.

And all of this was without taking into account all of the talking.

Oh, the talking.

There was so much of it.

Iroza was starting to worry his polite smile would become permanently etched onto his face, what with all of the smalltalk and reassurances he had to go through with all of these useless people. Leeches, the lot of them.

Time and time again, like clockwork, he would get introduced to some weirdo with a name and title he wouldn't bother remembering. He would nod at their greetings, graciously accept their words of praise, and listen while they went on about how loyal they were to the Fire Lord and his cause, how they would just be tickled pink at the opportunity to meet him someday, and oh it was just _such_ an honor to be in the same room as Prince Iroza. They could hardly contain their awe and excitement and Iroza literally wanted to die.

No wonder his father never toured Wan Bhing.

This sucked.

The day started to blur for him after a while.

Yes, the _day_.

Unlike feasts hosted by normal people, this feast had started only three hours after lunch and was set to go on well into the night.

So yes. The day started to blur.

"Prince Iroza! Your grace, it is my humblest of honors to make your acquaintance!"

"Hail, Prince Iroza! Word of your achievements as a firebender has spread far from the capital. I hear you are well on your way to gaining ground on your sister, the Princess Azula."

Ha. As if.

"I'm humbled and honored to meet you for the first time, my prince. May your father's rule be long and prosperous."

"Humble honors and honored humbles, Prince Iroza. I am a very important person in my local homeowner's association, and I believe I'm worthy of your time!"

At some point, he may have dozed off while someone talked at him. Maybe more than once. Several times, certainly. Sleeping with his eyes open and not snoring or slouching was a valuable set of skills for someone of his station. If someone took note of his vacant gaze, they would probably just assume he was unimpressed with their sales pitch and wander off to drown their sorrows in drink.

It was a win-win.

Not for the first time, Iroza was jealous of Zuko and his permanent vacation from responsibility.

Heck, even if his brother _were_ here, he would probably get all snippy and demand that everyone stop bothering him, before retreating to a corner to sulk with his arms crossed.

The easy way out.

But nooo, Iroza was the good prince. The non-rebellious one. He was expected to say the princely words and smile the princely smile and be the bright-eyed and good-hearted supporter of all of his father's doings, while also presenting himself as being on the side of all of these worthless fucks.

Okay. Maybe he was being a _little_ snippy.

But only in his head.

Mostly.

Hours went by. All of them sucked. The food was pretty good, even considering this was the boonies. Keep on flexing, Rama. It'll definitely help achieve whatever you're looking to achieve.

Even once the conversation had slowed, and everyone was eating. Even then, he felt a multitude of eyes on him as he ate. Taking in his every move. A less trained person would think they were just in awe. Taking him in. Gawking. Admiring.

And sure, some of them probably were. The younger nobles and the smaller children. The ones who hadn't quite picked up on all the nuances of court etiquette.

Christ, he sounded pretentious.

Anyway, all that to say he had to take care even while eating.

Why?

Because no matter _what_ he did, word would spread. Because these hillbilly robber barons had nothing better to talk about, aside from the tiresome news of the war. So what would they say?

_Iroza ate a normal amount of food._

_Iroza did not gorge himself on sweets._

_Iroza had impeccable table manners._

It wasn't even paranoia. He _knew_ that this was how they operated. Gossip and mindless chatter. They loved that sort of thing, especially when it was about royalty.

Bunch of weirdos.

Finally, _finally,_ Iroza was stirred from his stealth-brooding by General Rama, who swiftly drew all attention to himself. Iroza let out a small sigh of relief.

This was exhausting.

"Thank you all for coming to our humble celebration!" he cried, gesturing to the assembled nobility with one hand and raising his glass with another. "A celebration in honor of Prince Iroza, here to tour our lovely city and assist in military matters on behalf of Fire Lord Ozai."

With that, he gestured to Iroza and bowed slightly. The nobles all did likewise, raising their glasses and calling out his name. Respectfully, not like the rabble outside.

Iroza nodded and raised his own glass. "The honor is mine, General Rama."

He might have said something more to the nobles, but he was at his wit's end with all of this bullshit as it was.

"The Fire Lord has high hopes for his son, to send him to the great city of Wan Bhing. To see all that the Fire Nation rules. To see his people and look upon his mighty cities! To experience the war on Earth Kingdom firsthand. To teach and learn! To lead and triumph! And above all, to earn for himself the highest honor a bender can achieve. _Mastery_."

Fine. It was a pretty good speech.

Iroza nodded graciously as the nobles muttered their appreciation among themselves. More impressed and awed looks from the suckups and groupies.

He avoided scowling when a few mutters made it through the noise.

Yes, he _was_ coming in second to his sister.

Was it still impressive to be up for mastery at so young? Also yes.

So they could all go fuck themselves.

Rama went on, either not noticing or wisely deciding not to.

"To that end," he said, quieting the crowd with a look. "I am pleased— no, _honored_ to announce that his grace, Prince Iroza, will be joining the ranks of Wan Bhing's military in an official capacity. By my authority as both General and Governor of Wan Bhing, Prince Iroza will receive the highest honor I can bestow."

He gestured to Iroza, and the crowd hung on his every word with bated breath.

The guy knew how to play a crowd.

Even Iroza was a little excited, though he tried not to look like it.

Then Rama kept talking.

"Please join me in welcoming Prince Iroza, _Supreme Royal Adjutant_ of Wan Bhing!"

There was a lot of applause.

In the back of his mind, Iroza vaguely remembered to smile and raise his glass.

Look pleased, Iroza.

Look genuinely _surprised_ , Iroza.

Don't mess up this moment, Iroza. This was all for you, after all.

How annoying was it that his sister was the nagging voice of reason in his head? Very annoying. Not to mention ironic.

He said several words of thanks to General Rama.

Humbled and honored. That sort of thing.

He assured the nobles that he would do his best to serve Wan Bhing and combat the forces of Earth Kingdom.

Something along those lines.

He wasn't really focused on it.

Wasn't really paying attention.

At the exact moment Rama had said those words, Iroza had narrowed his eyes. It was a minor lapse. Just a teensy slipup. His facade was forgotten for a brief few seconds before he remembered to smile again. His mind had been transfixed on those words, and the way Rama had said them.

Supreme. Royal. Adjutant.

Huh.

It was almost funny, how little those words meant when strung together like that.

Ha.

Haha.

Iroza smiled and looked pleased and thanked Rama and assured the nobles.

He did all of those things, and as he did them he quickly scanned the room.

It couldn't be an obvious scan.

His demeanor meant that he appeared as though he was looking around in shock or bewilderment. He laughed once or twice in that 'too excited to speak' way, and a few nobles chuckled. Including Rama.

As he looked around, he took in the faces of anyone of any sort of importance.

Their expressions.

Were they surprised?

Were they _acting_ surprised?

Were they paying any attention at all?

He looked for the obvious first, with his limited time. Knowing smiles. Disinterested glances. Amused looks. Frowns. Anything he could pick out.

Above all, anyone who looked _smug_ , or pleased in an annoying way. Like they had gained something or seen something through.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Despite himself, his heart was speeding up a bit.

Rama looked pleased, and he had no subtlety at all. Could that be a ruse? It was clever if it was one. Pretend to be the bumbling fool, while keeping a sinister nature out of sight. A classic. Almost trope-like.

The nobles all looked as they ought to, from his quick glances.

Fuck. This wasn't ideal at all.

He briefly met eyes with Mai, who wore the slightest of frowns for a few seconds before her expression went blank. She looked right at him, gave a brief shake of her head, and then looked down at her plate.

So she hadn't seen anything either.

Damn.

His cursory scan of the room took only a handful of seconds, and it ended before he was satisfied with it. But it wouldn't do at all to _stay_ excited and overwhelmed, even if it gave him longer to look around. Bad for appearances.

So.

Not a lot to go on.

But alarm bells were _screaming_ in his head.

Nobody was acting like this was an insult. Or a strange position for fucking royalty. They were all cheering and many of them would likely be very drunk by the end of the night, which wasn't far off.

He mouthed the title again, making sure his eyes didn't look so dead as he did.

Supreme Royal Adjutant.

A nothing title with no authority to speak of.

From his limited knowledge, an adjutant was just an assistant. It wasn't actually a position within the established military chain of command Fire Nation used. It was a side thing. A secretary role in service of senior officers, but called something different.

Not a combat role.

Not a leadership role.

An _assistant_ role.

Either this was his father's doing, or something strange was going on.

Iroza thought about it, then tilted his head.

As much as his father hated him, and may not want Iroza earning any acclaim of his own, there was absolutely no way he would suffer his blood being saddled with an _assistant_ title. He would consider it a grave insult. For that reason alone, Iroza was a little tempted to say nothing and play along.

But that was the thing. It _wasn't_ Ozai. Couldn't be him.

Ozai didn't _do_ subtle.

And he was too proud for this sort of thing. Too wrapped up in his own family's legend to risk debasing it like this.

No. This was something else.

Someone else, tampering somehow.

That, more than the title itself, was the most concerning part of all this.

Iroza breathed out slowly, relishing the heat that simmered beneath his skin.

A reflex.

For now, he let the heat recede and fade out. Returning to the moment and leaving his many thoughts for later, Iroza joined back in on the trite conversations with a smile.

A genuine one, this time.

He couldn't help it.

Something interesting had _finally_ happened, and he was overjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

In…  
  
Out.  
  
In…  
  
Out.  
  
So on…  
  
And so forth.  
  
Iroza breathed, his eyes half-closed, sitting in a relaxed position.  
  
With each breath in, he called upon his chi and the flame in his chest swelled.  
  
With every exhale, it shrank back down.  
  
Over and over.  
  
It wasn’t much of an exercise. Not very efficient in stoking his fires. Not particularly destructive. It may be increasing his resistance ever so slightly, but not enough to be worth the time. Throttling the spouts of flame in his arms was far more effective.  
  
But it was relaxing.  
  
Meditative.  
  
Meditation was an odd pastime for a fire-bender. A foolish waste of time, according to his sister. She was wrong, but he wasn’t so defensive that he ever felt he had to argue the point or defend his masculinity. But she was super wrong. How dare she make fun of his holdover hobbies?  
  
It was one of those old things that had stayed with him.  
  
Over a decade since he had come to this world, and his new life. He had made many new memories, both good and bad, and lost _many_ old ones.  
  
But habits remained.  
  
Meditation was healthy. Good for the mind.  
  
Good for the soul, even. Or… The spirit. That thing.  
  
If nothing else, the pretense of having to meditate gave him time to be with his own thoughts and think. Things he otherwise needed an excuse or alibi for. Blank-faced? He was meditating. Not listening? Meditating. Not _training?_ Meditating. Not available to go and waste time sitting and eating snacks with General Rama, while trying not to tear his own hair out in frustration, because Rama was so _bafflingly_ inept at his own job that it was a miracle the city still existed at all?  
  
Meditating.  
  
A handy catch-all excuse for whenever Iroza needed a few minutes.  
  
Like now.  
  
The fire grew and shrank within him.  
  
A week had passed, and his new responsibilities as _Supreme Royal Adjutant_ were as mindless and easy as he had first suspected.  
  
“Paperwork? Nonsense! You are royalty, your grace. Supreme Royal Adjutant. Quite a ring to it, eh? Your role will be in overseeing parts of my work, and occasionally completing minor tasks that I assign you with. Nothing too base, of course. The Fire Lord would never forgive me for such.”  
  
Of course, his only real option was to smile and nod.  
  
“ _Thank you,_ General Rama. This is such an exciting honor. I’ll be sure to do my best and bring honor to my father and the Fire Nation!”  
  
Made him want to puke.  
  
He had to keep playing that role.  
  
For two reasons.  
  
Because General Rama expected it. Unveiling his true personality as a mild-mannered joyless asshole would be a… Poor move. He would only go there if it became absolutely necessary. And it might soon _be_ necessary, because of the second reason.  
  
Someone was watching him.  
  
He did _not_ look around with narrowed eyes. What was he, an amateur?  
  
Well— kind of, but that was beside the point.  
  
His eyes stayed closed.  
  
Someone was watching him.  
  
Maybe not right then. Maybe it was only every so often.  
  
But he was convinced.  
  
More than his father shuffling him away to a backwater province. More than General Rama trying to dazzle an impressionable Prince with a lavish city-wide festival, and a feast held in his honor.  
  
Someone had fitted him with a… A joke title.  
  
More than _that_ , even. Someone had convinced General Rama, a seemingly well-meaning simpleton, that it was actually a wonderful title. That a safe, out of the way position was exactly what the Prince would want.  
  
But who cared?  
  
Who cared enough to go through this trouble?  
  
The obvious answer was some disgruntled noble or worse, a rebellious one. Someone who did not like the Fire Lord and his family. This was occupied Earth Kingdom, so there was a very large list of potential candidates. They wanted to shame the Fire Lord’s son, while also depriving him of any real authority in the local military.  
  
 _That_ was the big part.  
  
Iroza’s role was not a combat one.  
  
It wasn’t even a leadership one.  
  
Iroza’s role was to watch Rama stumble his way through administration, and keep a straight face while it happened.  
  
At one point, Ji had given him an understanding look.  
  
“Rama is not the man he once was,” the man had said, shaking his head sadly. “The years have taken something from him, and he sometimes relies too much on a numbing tonic for that leg of his.”  
  
Needless to say, Ji went up several spots on Iroza’s laundry list of suspicious people who might be trying to ruin his life. Though he was maybe a bit too obvious. Still, he went right near the top. Next to a ridiculous number of minor nobles with forgettable names, Fire Lord Ozai, Azula— as some kind of stupid prank she hadn’t yet admitted to, and this one servant girl who occasionally looked at him funny when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.  
  
So yeah, it was a really long list.  
  
This city sucked.  
  
“Supreme Royal Adjutant Iroza.”  
  
That voice sounded far too amused for such a monotone person. He couldn’t accept it.  
  
Iroza cracked an eye open slightly, just so he could narrow it.  
  
“That’s _your royal highness,_ Supreme Royal Adjutant _Prince_ Iroza, to you,” he said, doing his best to sound as haughty and arrogant as she probably remembered him being. “If you’re going to grovel, you might as well use all of my titles. _Kneel before me_ , peasant.”  
  
She huffed, crossing her arms.  
  
“You wanted to talk to me?”  
  
Opening both of his eyes, Iroza exhaled loudly. Goodbye, peaceful alone-time. It was nice while it lasted.  
  
“Oh, but it _is_ good to see you, Mai,” he said, his voice climbing up in pitch as he went on. He leaped to his feet and beamed at her. “It’s been an age and a half since we’ve had a half-decent conversation. Come, let’s have some tea, and you can tell me _all_ about what life has been like. How’s Ty Lee? Have you seen her at all recently? I can only hope Azula has kept her correspondence with you both.”  
  
Hey Mai, you mean jerk. How’s life been with your family. They still looking to snipe some big title? Did Azula bully Ty Lee into coming here as well, or were you the only one?  
  
Mai glared at him. It was a familiar look on her.  
  
“No one’s around, so you can ditch the convoluted code-speak.”  
  
Iroza rolled his eyes. “Fine. Ruin my fun.”  
  
“Your paranoia isn’t fun.”  
  
“ _Well,_ ” he said with a huff, sticking up his chin at her. “Lucky for you, it isn’t just paranoia this time.”  
  
“Only reason I’m here, talking to you.”  
  
They stood there for a short moment, glaring at one another. One glare more joking than the other.  
  
Finally, he relented.  
  
“Thanks for coming,” he said.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Iroza sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Would you have even shown up at all if Azula hadn’t asked you to?”  
  
“You mean would I have shown up on my own, for no reason? No.”  
  
Ugh. Way to dance around the question, asshole.  
  
“I _mean_ would you have come if, say… _I_ had asked you.”  
  
This time there was a short pause.  
  
She shrugged. “Maybe. But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t have.”  
  
True enough.  
  
“Are you done asking hypotheticals? Azula asked me here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed, and I said yes. My family is here, because there was no real reason for them not to come along. But now I’m here, and it looks like you might _really_ be in trouble. So tell me what has you panicked this time. Because I actually care, sort of.”  
  
“That was a lot of words for you to say all at once, smiley.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
“Your sister asked Ty Lee to help out too, you know.”  
  
His surprise must have shown on his face, because she went on.  
  
“She said no. Busy doing flips and handstands for commoners in the circus. Just couldn’t find the time to help you out. You know how she is.”  
  
Well.  
  
Well, it would have been nice to see her. But whatever.  
  
A second later, he remembered to actually say something and tried not to look bothered by it. “She’s got her life, that’s fine. Would have been neat to see her, but yeah. Yeah. Whatever. You two keep in touch?”  
  
This time it was Mai’s turn to look awkward, while still being all stoic and cool and stuff.  
  
“Not so much, I take it?”  
  
Mai sighed, leaning back against one of the stone pillars. “Azula’s letter asking… Well, more demanding my help. That was the first I’ve heard from her in a while.”  
  
“Sounds about right,” Iroza muttered.  
  
Another silence. Not as hostile as the last one.  
  
Just awkward.  
  
“Your kid brother is pretty adorable,” he offered, just to break the ice. “What is he, almost two? Your mother was pretty far along, from what I remember.”  
  
She didn’t smile, but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.  
  
“Two in a few months, yeah,” she said, glaring half-heartedly at him because his attempts at changing the subject were _not_ subtle. “His name is Tom-Tom. He’s a… A kid. Baby. He’s fine, I think. Laughs a lot. Walks around way too much.”  
  
He grinned. “Not having much fun babysitting your kid brother?”  
  
“I learned from the best,” she said dryly.  
  
Ha, that was—  
  
Wait.  
  
He glared, also half-heartedly. “If anything, _I_ was the responsible one.”  
  
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.  
  
“Being slightly less brooding than Zu— than _Zuko_ , doesn’t mean you were the responsible one. Nobody who really knew you was fooled by that mild-mannered act you put on. Plus, you got in trouble way more often.”  
  
There it was.  
  
And here Iroza was worried _he’d_ be the one to accidentally bring it up.  
  
He would be smug if it weren’t all so awkward.  
  
Mai looked away.  
  
“Anything?”  
  
Kind of a vague question, but he knew what she was asking about.  
  
Puffing up his cheeks and blowing some air out, he walked over and sat on one of the weirdly ornate benches. He spoke in his own monotone, out of habit more than anything. “Port cities. Minor villages. A fire temple, one of the old air temples… Again. Turning back south soon, last I heard. Stopping at different places on the way. Same old.”  
  
She gave a clipped nod, glaring at a wall and not at him this time.  
  
“Iroh says he’s doing well. Got taller, because he wasn’t tall enough already,” Iroza said, shaking his head ruefully. Mai snorted but said nothing. He went on. “Better at bending all the time. Bit of a chip on his shoulder, apparently. Misses home. Doesn’t want to write to anyone until he has something.”  
  
Another short pause.  
  
“Yeah, that…” She paused to clear her throat. “That sounds like him.”  
  
Followed by yet _another_ brief pause.  
  
What a bunch of sad saps they were.  
  
Iroza snorted. “On second thought, it’s probably for the best that Ty Lee isn’t here right now. We’d never get any brooding done at all. She’d panic and nag us about how murky tendrils of black were coloring our wonderful vibrant energies.”  
  
“And then she would do a backflip.”  
  
“And then she would do a backflip,” he repeated with a nod, tapping his nose and looking at Mai knowingly. “Exactly. Maybe even two. Distract us until we stopped being all sad and stuff. The peer-reviewed and Azula-approved Ty Lee method.”  
  
“Best not disappoint her, then,” she said, pushing herself off the wall and nodding at Iroza. “You ready to tell me what’s got you worked up? Or do I have to wait until Azula bullies you into telling?”  
  
“Very funny,” he said, making sure not to laugh. “No one’s around, right? You checked?”  
  
She glared at him.  
  
Yeah, fair enough.  
  
“Just being cautious, _yeesh_.” He held up his hands placatingly. “You probably know already, but my stupid title isn’t actually a real title, which makes it even more stupid.”  
  
“Fitting.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, he went on. “It’s got me thinking… Someone is out to get me… Or they’re out to sabotage my chances at earning mastery. Or they’re trying to mess with the royal family. _Or_ , and this could be pretty fun, they might be trying to keep me from finding out what’s going on around here, if something is,” he said, counting each one off on a finger and then wiggling them about. “One of those, for sure.”  
  
“Pretty fun?”  
  
Iroza gave her an exasperated look. “I’ve been so _bored_. You have no idea.”  
  
Mai took a moment to pinch her nose and mutter under her breath.  
  
“Don’t give me that. This isn’t just paranoia! I got all of my paranoid theories out of the way on the trip over… And those were all just as clever and well-founded.”  
  
And no one would convince him otherwise.  
  
She didn’t say anything immediately, so he crossed his arms and huffed.  
  
When she did speak, it was as much to herself as it was to Iroza. “Fine. Azula wants me to help, so I’ll help. It might be stupid and pointless, but I’ll help. If it _is_ stupid and pointless, then whatever. It’s fine. _Fine_. Great.”  
  
“Great?”  
  
She nodded slowly, resigned to helping the cause now.  
  
Iroza grinned. “Great!”  
  
“Yeah, really great,” she said, and he wished she would get into the spirit of things already. “ _Moving on_. Assuming something is going on, which it might not be but we’re gonna go ahead and pretend it _is_ for now and that’s _fine_ , then it’s probably one of the higher-ups. Either a noble, or a high-ranking official who doesn’t want to take orders from you.”  
  
Iroza nodded. “Sounds about right. So what were you thinking?”  
  
“I’ll have a look around, see if anyone’s left something around. Files or messages.”  
  
“Asking questions and such, right?”  
  
She sighed. “I’m not really one for smiling and batting my eyelashes at people, no. You’re basically already doing it, so just…” She made a vague gesture at him. “Just keep that up, I guess.”  
  
Smiling and batting eyelashes? Ridiculous.  
  
That hardly described all of the subtleties that made it into his performance as a mild-mannered prince with no secrets.  
  
“Yeah, that’s fair.”  
  
Alright. It described it a little.  
  
He crossed his arms and tried to look unimpressed. “So you’ll be the sneaky one, and I’ll be the social one who is also sneaky? Doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”  
  
“There’s no plan,” she said flatly.  
  
“This kind of _is_ a plan, though.”  
  
“This is me looking for evidence of your paranoia, and you asking leading questions with your big innocent eyes, and then us maybe meeting up again at some point if either of us learns something important.”  
  
Iroza shot her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan.”  
  
She snorted. “Whatever.”  
  
With that, she turned and crept back into the shadows.  
  
He shook his head with a laugh. “Ahh… What a cheerful person. I missed her.”  
  
No he didn’t.  
  
Well, maybe a little.  
  
A minute went by, and his leftover amusement from the conversation slowly faded. It was nice to talk to someone who already knew his tricks.  
  
Refreshing, really.  
  
Walking over to a basin, he splashed his face with some cool water and contorted his face a few different ways. Big smile. Small smile. Wide eyes. Doe eyes. Smug. Naive. Confused.  
  
Practice was important.  
  
A thought hit him. He looked around with a frown, considering.  
  
It _would_ be nice if he didn’t have to resort to his customer service persona at all, honestly. And if he wanted to ditch it— well, he was _very_ far from home.  
  
Dropping the act and bulldozing his way through the investigation, rooting out dissidents and making examples out of people… It was very tempting, and would probably end up being very effective.  
  
But…  
  
It also sounded like something Ozai would do.  
  
It sounded a lot like something Ozai would be _overjoyed_ to hear that his son was doing in his stead.  
  
Iroza drew himself up, stroking the beard he didn’t have. “My son, at long last you have proven yourself worthy of your bloodline. You have brought honor to the Fire Nation. Zuko would do _well_ to learn from you. Why, back when I was a wee laddie, I was stomping out dissent in conquered territories all over the place. Good to see you following in my footsteps, boyo. _I’m proud of you, Iroza_.”  
  
Yuck.  
  
That thought alone was enough for him to steer away from the idea.  
  
He _did_ think about it.  
  
A little.  
  
Well… A little more than a little, but still not a lot.  
  
He shook his head roughly, putting it firmly out of his mind for the time being. It wouldn’t work yet. He would just have to cross that bridge whenever it came up.  
  
He left the room and got ready to start smiling again.  
  
It was aggravating, but…  
  
But hey, maybe he wouldn’t have to keep it up for much longer.

***

“General Rama, how good to see you,” Iroza said, beaming and suppressing the urge to glare. It was an annoying reflex. “I’ve learned so much in this role you’ve trusted me with. It’s really been quite an experience, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn from you.”  
  
Rama turned to him in his seat with a raised eyebrow, before he burst into jovial laughter.  
  
“Ahah! It is _I_ who should be grateful to you, your grace. You have performed your duties as Adjutant with peerless efficiency. I admit, I find myself very impressed. But not surprised! Of course one of the Fire Lord’s children would be equal to any task set before them. It’s only natural!”  
  
Yes, yes. Back and forth groveling and empty compliments.  
  
“I’m honored that you think so highly of my father, General. And me, for that matter. I’ve only begun to learn the full extent of what goes on around here, and it’s been inspirational to watch you work.”  
  
An entire week and a half since he and Mai had met up and decided to look for clues. A week and a half of standing around, trying to learn something incriminating, and failing. But that wasn't to say he hadn't learned anything at all.  
  
On the contrary, he had learned a great deal.  
  
Like… How the General liked his tea. And how much the General liked to talk. And how little the General liked to work. And how much the General relied on grunts to handle administration. And how little attention he paid to issues that came up. Most of all, how the most important and pressing issues seemed to dry up while Iroza was there.  
  
All was well in Wan Bhing, after all. To suggest otherwise was ridiculous!  
  
Rama nodded seriously, stroking the folds beneath his chin. “Well, that makes sense, I suppose. You may be something of a prodigy, my prince, but you are young yet. I’m honored that you think so highly of me, and it’s my hope that you return home from this assignment with a new appreciation for this sort of work!”  
  
Iroza didn’t narrow his eyes.  
  
He was too busy thinking. Thinking about taking his hands, making them as hot as he could manage on such short notice, and plunging them into the man’s chest.  
  
How much time would he need?  
  
Half a minute?  
  
Something like that.  
  
Just hot enough so that all he would have to do is _push_. Would the bones cave in from enough heat? He might not be powerful enough to do that right away… But given a minute or two, the bones would probably just burn to ash, right?  
  
Anything could burn with enough heat, after all.  
  
 _Ooh_ , maybe he could just lightly place his hands on the man’s chest before unleashing his flames on him at point-blank range.  
  
That could work.  
  
A little messy... Or a lot messy. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  
  
Yeah…  
  
“Prince Iroza? Are you quite alright?”  
  
He blinked, internally cursing himself as he came back to the moment and noticed Rama looking at him with a furrowed brow.  
  
Bad Iroza. No daydreaming.  
  
He smiled awkwardly, inclining his head. “Apologies, General. I was lost in my own thoughts.”  
  
Rama clicked his tongue. “That’s an unfortunate habit, Adjutant. In this line of work, you must be ever vigilant! Never a moment’s rest. At the top of administration there is only ever work, and we must never let our minds wander aimlessly. Take it from me, why—”  
  
Someone cleared their throat by the doorway. Ji stood there, looking hesitant as he entered the room.  
  
“General? Is this a bad time?”  
  
Rama looked over with a frown. “I suppose it depends. What is it?”  
  
“My apologies, in either case. Your lady wife was visiting the market and has sent you an array of sweets to enjoy, along with your daily tea and…” Here he paused, glancing slightly at Iroza before going on. “Medicine.”  
  
The General brightened immediately, though he sent his representative a _look_ with that last part. It was short-lived.  
  
“Ha! That woman… She knows me, true enough. Too well!” Shuffling some papers around, he nodded seriously at Ji. “Very well, very well. Send it in! I haven’t eaten in a spell, after all. Good, good.”  
  
As General Rama started clearing space for his food, Ji clapped his hands and a pair of servants walked into the room pushing a cart. A cart waylaid with silver dishes. Dishes of meats, sweets, and tea. Salt and sugar and… Vinegar?  
  
Strong smells.  
  
Iroza sighed, trying not to inhale too deeply.  
  
Gross.  
  
Ji looked over at the sound, raising his brows at Iroza. “Will his grace— I… That is, will your _Adjutant_ be joining you in your meal, General Rama? We can send for more—”  
  
“Oh, that’s right!” Rama cried, whirling back to Iroza with a scandalized expression. “My apologies, Adjutant. If you wish to join me, you need only ask… We could even continue our discussion!” Here he paused, looking slightly lost for a few seconds. “Though I admit, the topic of it has slipped my mind. Remind me, would you?”  
  
“The importance of maintaining vigilance, and how there’s never a moment of rest in this job,” Iroza recited, straight-faced as could be.  
  
Rama went slightly pink, before going on with a laugh and raising a single finger. “Ah, yes, of course… Well, consider this another lesson! No man can go without food. It fuels the body, and soothes the mind. Remember that, Adjutant.”  
  
Die.  
  
“Of course, General,” Iroza said with a nod.  
  
Ji tilted his head. “Shall I call for more dishes, Adjutant? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”  
  
Iroza thought about it, really considering his options, and—  
  
Actually, no. He didn’t think about it at all.  
  
“I would love to, General, but I’m not particularly hungry at the moment. One of those days. I’m sure you understand. Please, accept my apologies. I don’t wish to be rude, and I am grateful for the invitation.”  
  
Not his best excuse, but whatever.  
  
Iroza had just had enough for now and wanted out.  
  
It had been hours, and Rama hadn’t let anything slip. No nefarious intent. No secret plans. No hidden codes. No subtle looks.  
  
If he didn’t know better, he would just think the man was incompetent.  
  
He _was_.  
  
But there had to be more to it than that.  
  
“I see, I see.”  
  
Rama muttered to himself, even managing to sound concerned while his gaze was fixed upon the food being tastefully arranged on his desk by the two servant girls.  
  
One of them, the suspicious one, glanced over at Iroza. He carefully averted his own eyes.  
  
He was on to her, goddammit.  
  
Whatever. He might as well try to get something out of this whole meeting.  
  
“Since I won’t be sticking around… General Rama,” he prompted. The man looked up with a start, as if only now remembering he was even there. “Since I won’t be sticking around, I felt it would only be right to ask if you had any tasks for me?”  
  
Rama squinted at him for a moment before nodding decisively.  
  
“Hmm… Yes. Yes, I suppose that would be proper. Good thinking, my Adjutant!” He shoved several platters out of the way, the metal scraping against the wooden desk as he did so, and pulled a few bundles of papers towards him. “Let’s see here… No… Not that. No… Well— no, of course not.”  
  
Iroza largely tuned the muttering out as he waited.  
  
He looked around briefly, and that was a mistake. Ji smiled pleasantly at him, and the two girls demurely kept their eyes on the floor as they waited for General Rama to finish sifting through his mess of papers.  
  
Iroza stopped just short of tapping his foot or whistling.  
  
“Here we are, this should keep you suitably busy for a while,” Rama said, finally grasping a small pile of letters all loosely bundled together with a small leather strap. Other papers fell to the wayside as he pulled them from the pile. “Just a few messages I need delivered. Letters, and the like. Nothing too strenuous for my Royal Adjutant.”  
  
“ _Supreme_ Royal Adjutant, General,” Ji corrected with a patient tone.  
  
“Yes, yes. I know the title. It’s just a mouthful, is all. One word too many. Or is it two words too many! Heh. Just as well it wasn’t up to me to come up with it, I suppose,” he said grudgingly. He stood with a grunt and placed the bundle of letters in Iroza’s hands. “Here you are, _Supreme_ Royal Adjutant. Deliver these messages in my name, and so forth.”  
  
Ji cleared his throat then, drawing both their attention to him. His face looked a little tense, which immediately had Iroza paying even more attention to the exchange.  
  
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather leave the deliveries to one of your loyal soldiers, General? It’s just,” he hesitated, then went on. “Courier-duty seems beneath a _Prince_. Don’t you agree?”  
  
Rama thought on this, and Iroza decided he didn’t feel like leaving it up to that man’s whims.  
  
“It’s no bother at all, Representative Ji. I’m more than up to the task, and I’ve always been curious as to how these things go,” Iroza said with a smile, inserting himself back into the conversation.  
  
Rama looked over at Iroza, then back at Ji with a grin. “See there? My Adjutant is fully capable and eager to learn! That’s my teachings at work, right there. Don’t you worry, Ji. He’ll have no trouble with it.”  
  
There was a short pause. Rama seemed content to leave it at that, but Ji still looked conflicted.  
  
Best to prod him before he comes up with another excuse.  
  
"Do you have some other issue with my taking on this task, Representative?" Iroza asked, feigning a casual tone.  
  
After a brief second of hesitation, Ji turned to bow to Iroza and Rama both. "Not as such. My apologies for making assumptions, Adjutant." Standing upright, he nodded to Rama. "General, I withdraw my objection."  
  
"Noted," Rama said with a grunt, already looking distracted.  
  
“No apologies are needed, Representative. I understand your concerns.” Iroza said, suppressing a smirk. He nodded to the General. “By your leave, General.”  
  
Rama sat back down with a sigh. “Yes, yes. You have it.”  
  
Iroza stepped back and nodded in a respectful manner. He would bow, but actually _no_ he wouldn’t bow because he was a _prince_. It wasn’t arrogance, it was the hierarchy. And arrogance. Even if he was taking orders from this guy.  
  
“I’ll see it done. General Rama, Representative Ji,” he said, nodding to each of them in turn.  
  
Then he turned and walked out of the room, letting his face drop once the guards and servants were all behind him.  
  
Spirits, but his face was tired.  
  
Playing the part of a suck-up was hard work. After all of this, he had a newfound respect for all of those bloodsucking, two-faced nobles he had met. Not much respect, but more than he had before.  
  
But he still hated them.  
  
After a few minutes, he stepped out of the General’s mansion, taking a deep breath of the disgusting urban air and appreciating the decrepit city-scape. Still a shithole.  
  
“Lovely,” he said dryly.  
  
Only rarely could he be like this. Glaring out at this place that he hated.  
  
Oh well. He wouldn’t be here forever. He _wouldn’t_.  
  
After a quick scan of his surroundings confirmed he was alone, he looked down and started flipping through the different letters. His eyes flitted across the lines, disregarding the letter as routine or inane after a few words each. He couldn’t tarry long. Mai had been confident they weren’t being watched at the time, but Iroza wasn’t so complacent as to treat that as the standard.  
  
He just had to look through them all. See if any one of them had something, _anything_. Anything to tip him off. Some sort of clue, hint, or slipup. Some kind of—  
  
He stopped.  
  
“What’s this?” he muttered, thumbing the edges of the letter.  
  
A letter addressed to— what _appeared_ to be one of the prison wardens. _Warden Pola_.  
  
Three things set him off about this letter.  
  
One. It wasn’t addressed to the head warden, who Iroza was pretty sure he had been introduced to at some point.  
  
Two. It wasn’t written in Rama’s hand.  
  
Now, either of these things could be easily explained by coincidence or oversight. Perhaps he had delegated the addressing of this letter to one of his grunts. Iroza had done much the same on several days, and it _sucked_. Perhaps he was sending some sort of personal correspondence, or letter of termination, to this particular prison warden.  
  
But the third thing was what cemented it.  
  
“Wrong seal,” he said.  
  
It was the only one missing Rama’s seal. Instead, it had some symbol Iroza didn’t recognize.  
  
A multi-tiered circle. One outer ring. One larger, middle ring. And a small inner dot.  
  
He tapped it, considering.  
  
Then he nodded.  
  
“Yeah, something’s up.”  
  
Rolling his head to crack his neck, he sighed.  
  
This probably meant he was overdue a visit to the prison. Even if it amounted to nothing, this was his only tangible lead so far. After a week and a half of trying to figure things out while working directly under Rama's nose. This was it. A suspicious-looking letter. It wasn't much, but he had to at least _check_.  
  
What a drag.  
  
A thought came to him, and he grinned. “Mai’s gonna be _pissed_.”


	6. Chapter 6

As Iroza approached the perimeter of the General’s mansion, after grabbing a cloak to blend into the crowds more, he suppressed the scowl that he instinctively reached for and tried to look somewhat respectful of the… Guards.

The soldiers posted at the entrance went rigid at his approach.

One of them stepped forward, bowing stiffly.

“Supreme Royal Adjutant,” he said, and Iroza wondered if any of the rank and file knew how ridiculous his title sounded. “Are you on assignment from General Rama?”

Iroza nodded. “Letters. Nothing I can’t handle, of course.”

Probably best to cut off any attempts to offload his work, while also not being a suspicious weirdo about it.

“Of course. If you intend to deliver them personally, I can arrange for an escort.”

Oh joy, that was even worse.

He shook his head, striking a balancing act of boredom and impatience that he was well-practiced in. “Courier duty is a dull affair. None of these letters are to any seedy parts of the city. I’ll manage quite well on my own.”

The man hesitated, and Iroza was unsurprised.

“Are you very sure, your grace? Representative Ji has made it clear that—”

Iroza clicked his tongue, glaring at the man who quickly stopped talking. “Representative Ji and I both take orders from the _General_ , soldier. I am operating under General Rama’s orders, not Representative _Ji’s_. That should be enough for you.”

After a short pause, the guard quickly stepped back and bowed.

“My deepest apologies, Supreme Royal Adjutant. I did not mean to question your authority.”

Liar.

“Think nothing of it,” Iroza said with a gracious nod.

With that, he continued on his way, mustering all of his self-control to not look back and see if they were staring at him, or if someone was following him despite his orders.

Not yet, anyway.

He took a few moments to calm down and breathe once he was out of sight of the mansion, even as he kept walking. Slowly. Subtly. Not gasping for air. There were still people around.

Flexing his authority…

Not something he was eager to do.

Every time he did it, he felt every second of that pause. The hesitation from them. Where they decided if they could ignore or misinterpret his orders. Where they thought about if they could go ask someone with real authority.

Every time, it was a pit in his stomach.

Sure, it worked this time. But next time…

Iroza shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

There would be plenty of time to think about hidden betrayals later. That was the entire point of this outing, after all. But for now, it was only a distraction.

He snorted.

There were plenty of other distractions to focus on.

Issues.

Well, calling them issues was premature. More like obstacles.

There were obstacles.

First and foremost. He couldn’t open the letter that had caught his eye. The one with the non-standard seal and the unusual recipient. He couldn’t open it without making it incredibly obvious that it had been tampered with.

And him being the courier, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who did it.

Whether or not he _could_ open it wasn’t in question.

But what would come of it? Would he be scolded? Made to do grunt work? Given that he was a prince, and here by order of the Fire Lord, he might predict nothing more than a slap on the wrist. In theory, his station should afford him some amount of immunity. No discharge, no grueling punishments.

But here?

The dread he felt and the tensing of his chest immediately put him off of the idea.

No.

No, things were much too uncertain for that.

Until he could figure out exactly what was going on, he had to operate under the assumption that he would not be treated well if he stepped out of line, despite the fact that he was in ‘friendly’ territory.

Making his way through the streets, ignoring anyone who recognized him, he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

He could…

Rubbing his fingers together, taking comfort in the heat, he looked around.

In the right light, he should be able to make out the message through the paper. Working without the sun, his own flame should be enough to get something out of it.

It should work.

Though he would need privacy to do it.

That was the thing. Privacy _might_ be as simple as ducking into a deserted alleyway. But Iroza remembered that hesitation on Ji’s face when he had been given the assignment and the bundle of letters. And the sentry that had first thought to go and ask _Representative Ji_ for a second opinion before Iroza had shut him down.

If Ji wasn’t having him watched at this very moment…

Iroza wasn’t fool enough to take that bet.

So he needed an inconspicuous way of getting a few minutes of privacy.

That was if he wanted to read the message before delivering it, and _obviously_ he did. The most straightforward way he could read the message and not have anyone be aware of it.

They might well suspect, but they wouldn’t _know_.

Briefly shuffling through the other, more routine letters, he hummed under his breath and looked for a delivery that might suit his purposes.

Bathhouse, blacksmith, butcher… Requisition orders and permits, mostly.

The bathhouse would have to do.

If he could duck into a private room for a moment or two, that’d be enough.

With that preliminary plan in mind, he started towards the bathhouses. He vaguely remembered where it was, and he would prefer to avoid asking one of the guards for directions. Best not draw much attention to where he was going.

***

Iroza was sweating slightly, and he blamed it all on the steam.  
  
The bathhouse was really humid. Go figure.  
  
But he was nervous.  
  
His handoff of the delivery and subsequent bathroom break had all gone more or less as planned.  
  
Still, he couldn’t help but look around.  
  
And look around again.  
  
Shit, this was stressful.  
  
Whatever. _Whatever._ He was alone with the letters, and he had to be fast.  
  
He had to do this quickly.  
  
Staying too long would arouse too much suspicion.  
  
There was also the nagging possibility that the heat might fuck with the ink. The steam in the air was _not_ helping matters. He pulled the letter to Warden Pola out and called a small flame to his hand. Then he winced and held it a little further from the paper.  
  
A steaming bathhouse _and_ a flame. Just perfect.  
  
Just a really great idea, Iroza. One of a kind genius, you are.  
  
Idiot.  
  
He wondered how much it said about him that his overzealous inner critic sounded so haughty, feminine, and annoyingly familiar.  
  
Probably a lot.  
  
More than he was willing to unpack, least of all now.  
  
He narrowed his eyes at the letter and held his other hand at an angle, trying to pick up the writing through the back of the parchment.  
  
Shit.  
  
Shit. Shit. Shit.  
  
He couldn’t see any of the text.  
  
He swore under his breath, and in his head.  
  
The parchment was too thick. There was no bleed-through from the ink.  
  
This was likely to be his only chance to get something from this.  
  
But _how_?  
  
Then his eyes drifted to his hand, still alight with flame, and he had an idea that he really should have thought of earlier, even if it was kind of a dodgy idea.  
  
So naturally, he decided to go with it right away.  
  
The flame in his hand grew smaller, dimming until the heat was entirely contained beneath his skin. Right on his thumb, until it started getting red. No open flame.  
  
He pressed his thumb into the back of the letter and started peeling the front off.  
  
All while staring intently at the seal.  
  
 _Please don’t break.  
  
Please don’t break.  
  
Please don’t break_.  
  
 _Please—_  
  
It came off.  
  
And he remembered to breathe.  
  
Wax still in one piece. Seal intact.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He laughed slightly, noticing how tense he was.  
  
Right. The letter was open.  
  
Good. Really good.  
  
He flipped it open, eyes darting across the text as he remembered that he was on a timetable.  
  
By the end of the letter, his excitement had waned slightly.  
  
Less than he had hoped for.  
  
No obvious evidence of a conspiracy. Though expecting anything damning was probably too optimistic anyway.  
  
The letter was normal.  
  
Fairly standard prisoner transfer orders. Sixteen Earth Kingdom POWs being transferred back to the colonies. They would be split up and dolled out to the different sea prisons from there.  
  
Earthbenders, then. That was something  
  
The only odd parts were a few non-standard bits that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the military jargon in the letter.  
  
Warning of bandit activity along the route, along with details on the quality and quantity of soldiers that would be accompanying the prisoner train. Not too suspicious at a glance, but what would a prison warden need with it?  
  
And then there was the word.  
  
Well, he wasn’t sure what it was, exactly.  
  
Either a name or some sort of callsign, or even a code word, at the bottom of the letter. It might be the name of the sender, but it still didn’t help him very much. It was written in plain script. No signature. Just the insignia from the seal, that three-tiered circle, and word at the end.  
  
Laogai.  
  
Iroza wracked his brain, but it didn’t ring any bells.  
  
If it was a name, then it wasn’t from anyone in the local chain of command he recognized. That wasn’t a high bar, but it discounted everyone he was already suspicious of. The initials didn’t fit.  
  
It could be a place? Some sort of meeting spot, or dropoff. But that didn’t help either, since he didn’t know _where_ it was or if they had some specialized code of indicating that sort of thing.  
  
As a codeword, it could easily function as some sort of key for the letter to be translated, or just signal an alternate interpretation of the letter without changing it at all.  
  
He bit his tongue slightly.  
  
Tricky, tricky.  
  
After a few more seconds, he sighed and rubbed at his forehead.  
  
These theories weren’t really helping.  
  
The letter was just missing too much context.  
  
As his thumb heated back up, he watched and waited as the wax seal started to soften. Just as it looked ready to drip, but before the surface of the indentation could be deformed at all, he resealed the letter.  
  
There. Easy.  
  
Firebending ruled.  
  
Splashing his face with some water from the basin in the room, to give the impression he had actually been using the facilities instead of making it obvious he had just spent five minutes standing around doing nothing, he then gathered the letters back up and left the bathhouse.  
  
He spared a nod to the man at the desk but otherwise kept to his thoughts as he walked.  
  
Mai might be able to glean more from the text, seeing as she was deceitful and roguish by nature, but he still had to actually deliver the thing. The best he could do would be reciting it to her by memory, which of course he would do anyway.  
  
But in the meantime…  
  
Well, maybe Warden Pola was up for a friendly chat?  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
They could just talk all of this out like reasonable folk. And while he was at it, Iroza would broker peace between Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. He would be anointed as a hero and hailed as a patron saint, which wasn’t a thing here. Finally, he would be revealed to be the Avatar because the cycle had inexplicably skipped over the other elements and gone right back to fire.  
  
And nothing bad would ever happen again.  
  
This time he really did sigh.  
  
Spirits, but he wished he could just storm into the prison and firebend the information out of the warden. It would be so _easy_.  
  
That’s what Azula would do if she was here.  
  
And it would work.  
  
Probably.  
  
Thing was, Azula was also less worried about consequences than him. Being the favored daughter, and all. That, and she was a skilled fighter and firebender both.  
  
Not that Iroza was _un_ skilled.  
  
He was just… Less skilled.  
  
Yeah.

***

His route took him through most of the districts, though only very briefly in some cases. He made sure not to spend too long in the merchant's district because it was full of disgusting merchant pigs.  
  
And panhandlers.  
  
At first, Iroza had been planning on mentally checking out until he finally made it to the delivery he cared at all about, to save some of his sanity.  
  
Unfortunately, the contents of the letter— or lack of contents, necessitated a different strategy. If he was to get any kind of information directly from the Warden, it had to come off as routine. His questions had to be within the expected parameters of the people who were watching him.  
  
If he only asked the Warden questions, and not anyone else, then it would imply that he had taken a _special_ interest in the Warden.  
  
And what could possibly have brought that on?  
  
The letter, obviously.  
  
So, as much as he despised these people, he had to resign himself to being told all about the daily life and duties of a blacksmith, a baker, a seamstress, and so on.  
  
With each delivery, he asked a few different questions.  
  
Interviewing them, really.  
  
He had to frame this as curiosity, and an eagerness to learn about the administration in the city.  
  
It was _awful_.  
  
Completely worthless prattle.  
  
But it was necessary.  
  
Finally, he arrived at the prison and summoned the last dredges of his willpower.  
  
Ramshackle as everything in Wan Bhing tended to be, the prison was still a veritable fortress of smooth stone walls, with towers and battlements strategically placed. He briefly scanned the top, taking note of the guards who _were_ actually patrolling.  
  
That was something.  
  
He brought his eyes to the gates, where two guards were sitting and chatting.  
  
Whatever. At least no one was asleep.  
  
They leapt to their feet and right to attention as Iroza approached the thick prison doors, which were barred.  
  
He nodded to them. “Gentlemen.”  
  
One of them took a step forward and bowed. “Your grace, your presence honors us. Did the General send you?”  
  
Of course not, he was just visiting.  
  
“That’s right. Priority message, straight from General Rama,” he said, holding the letter up and briefly glancing around. “Is Warden Pola about?”  
  
“I believe so. I’ll see to it that she gets the message.”  
  
Iroza shook his head.  
  
“That won’t be necessary. Point me in the right direction, soldier.”  
  
And again, the hesitation.  
  
“Forgive me, but are you cleared for that?” At Iroza’s glare, the man stumbled on. “It’s just— Our prison is a secure facility, and entry is strictly regulated by order of Representative Ji, sir.”  
  
Iroza wanted to kill everyone.  
  
Instead, he smiled and tilted his head. “As Supreme Royal Adjutant, it so happens that Representative Ji and I operate on comparable levels of authority. Do you know what that means?”  
  
That factoid might have been complete horseshit, for all Iroza knew. But these idiots definitely didn’t know.  
  
“That… You _are_ cleared for entry?”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
The soldier rubbed at his neck, sharing a look with one of the others at the gate. “Does that make sense to you?”  
  
“Why are you asking me? You’re the one talking to him, so you decide.”  
  
He stalked over and punched his compatriot in the shoulder, lowering his voice. But not enough that Iroza couldn’t listen in. “I’m not totally sure, is why I’m asking. Do you think we should let him in?”  
  
The other soldier shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s the Prince, and he can do what he wants even just being a Prince. But he’s also Supreme Royal Adjutant, so he’s real important.”  
  
“So it’s as good as a Representative?”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s a different title. But he says he can go in, and General Rama sent him with the letter. What are you gonna do? Tell him no?”  
  
“No— I mean, do you think I’ll get in trouble for letting him in?”  
  
“Way I see it, you’ll get in trouble for sure if you keep him out. And I’ll not be going down on your paranoia.”  
  
“We can’t just _assume_ it’ll work out,” he hissed, briefly looking back at Iroza. “Uh— sorry, sir. Just consulting with one of my subordinates.”  
  
“Ask him if he has a badge, or a permit.”  
  
“He’s the prince! Why would he need a badge?”  
  
“He’s also the Supreme Royal Adjutant. Might have some kinda symbol of authority is all I’m saying.”  
  
“I don’t have a badge,” Iroza called over, frowning slightly as the two of them jumped and turned to him. “Is my word not good enough for you two?”  
  
“I— uh, no sir…” His friend elbowed him. “I mean, yes sir! Your word is good enough, of course. More than good enough. Why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
The man trailed off, laughing nervously.  
  
Iroza waited a few seconds, glancing between them. “So… Can I go in?”  
  
The two exchanged a look.  
  
“Yes,” they both said at once.  
  
“Wonderful,” Iroza said dryly.  
  
“Good… Right,” the first one cleared his throat, turning to pound his fist on the door. “Hey! Hey Fin! Open the door, the Supreme Royal Agitat— Ajoe— Ajotau— it’s the Supreme Royal… The Prince is here, to see one of the Wardens.”  
  
“The Supreme Royal Adjutant? Is this an inspection?”  
  
Beyond frustrated with how long this was taking, Iroza called out to the guard beyond the gate. “I have a priority message for Warden Pola, by order of the General. It’s sensitive information, so I’ll not be handing it off to anyone but the Warden.”  
  
And at last, that seemed to do it.  
  
The doors unlocked and swung open from the inside. As he walked in, Iroza idly wondered if security was this bad in all Fire Nation prisons, or if this one, in particular, was staffed by a bunch of idiotic locals.  
  
“Good to meet you, Supreme Royal Adjutant, sir.”  
  
Iroza nodded at them but didn’t respond.  
  
Hopefully, it was the latter.

***

Another of the guards, who thankfully didn’t bother trying to converse or introduce himself, led Iroza through the corridors of the prison. The thick stone walls on display outside gave way to wood and panels of metal as they went down a level. And then another.  
  
“Stone is no good for earthbenders, sir,” he said, by way of explanation. “Halls and cells on this level had to be specially built to contain their type. Wood and metal, by and large.”  
  
“And Warden Pola… What’s her position here?”  
  
“Well that’s easy enough. Pola’s responsible for this whole section down here. Pretty quiet job since none of the benders get trial, and none of them can really escape. Mostly keeping watch and feeding them. From what I understand, that is, sir.”  
  
“I see…” Iroza said, scanning the cells as they walked. Small gaps in the metallic doors. Enough for air and light to leak in, but that was all. Two locks on each door. One for the door itself, and a smaller one for the sliding panels. For food, if he had to assume. No brick or exposed earth to be seen. “How secure would you say this place is?”  
  
“Very secure. Top of the line security, of course.”  
  
“For earthbenders?” Iroza had his doubts about that.  
  
“Well…” As they arrived at the end of the hall, next to a room lined with shelves and a desk, the man stopped to turn and look at Iroza. “It was originally built for— uh… Other sorts of people. That is, not necessarily earthbenders.”  
  
“It was built to contain firebenders, Adjutant.”  
  
This voice came from down the hall. Iroza looked over, then up. A tall, older woman in gleaming red armor, better kept than most soldiers he had seen in the city, stood with her helmet in one hand and a stack of papers in another.  
  
She approached, stopping in front of him and bowing deeply. “Prince Iroza. It’s an honor to meet a member of the royal family. My name is Pola, I’m the Warden of this level of the prison.”  
  
Straightening back up, she spared a glance to the soldier and jerked her head to the side.  
  
He turned and marched off, making himself scarce.  
  
Iroza eyed her, stoic face and guarded stance. He held out the letter. “Good to meet you, Warden Pola. This letter is from General Rama, governor of Wan Bhing. Confirm delivery.”  
  
Pola reached out and accepted it, briefly looking down at the seal. Iroza tried to take in all of her micro-expressions, but the only thing he picked out was a slight tensing of her jaw. Looking back up at him, she nodded. “Delivery confirmed. While I appreciate this, I hope you don’t feel obligated to make deliveries on the regular, Adjutant.”  
  
“Oh?” He tilted his head at her and grinned. “Did I do that awful of a job, then? That’s a shame. I assure you that I tried my best.”  
  
She didn’t even blink.  
  
“Of course not, sir. It was a commendable effort. Courier duty just seems rather base for someone of you… Station.”  
  
This wouldn’t be good enough.  
  
She was too composed to let anything slip. Too wooden. Someone had tipped her off or prepped her beforehand. Representative Ji, in all likelihood, though he most likely did it through an agent.  
  
Nobody could possibly know for certain if Iroza knew anything at this point.  
  
But they likely suspected that _he_ suspected.  
  
Very straightforward.  
  
So straightforward he was getting a headache just thinking about it.  
  
Clicking his tongue, Iroza sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. “It was a little demeaning, I’ll grant you that. But I’m still having a good time of it. Learning all the intricacies of city-wide administration is very interesting to me. Exciting stuff.”  
  
She didn’t look like she believed him but kept silent.  
  
Right.  
  
Time for some more direct probing.  
  
“With that in mind,” he said, looking around at the cells with a curious expression. “How about you tell me a little about your routine here?”  
  
Pola shifted a little. “My routine, sir?”  
  
Yes, tell him all of the secret plans.  
  
“Your day-to-day. A breakdown of the nitty-gritty responsibilities of Warden Pola. Paperwork, patrols, and prisoner related things,” Iroza said, adding a bit of impatience to his tone. “You know. The _routine_.”  
  
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t find them very interesting, sir.”  
  
He sighed, shaking his head. “Whether or not I find them interesting isn’t relevant, Warden. I’ve a role to fulfill, and I like to have at least a passing knowledge of everything that goes on. I’ve gone through this with each of my deliveries today, and I intend on doing it here as well. Now, shall we move on? Or are you so busy that I need to go to the General and schedule an appointment?”  
  
It was hard to sound threatening when he was so young and small.  
  
In this situation, the best he could do was fall back on a bored tone and a haughty attitude. Making veiled threats disguised as naive questions.  
  
Azula was far better at being directly threatening.  
  
Finally, Pola stood at attention and bowed again. “Of course I can answer your questions. I am at your service, Adjutant. Please accept my apologies for assuming your intent, and questioning your authority.”  
  
And there it was again.  
  
The questioning, followed by the apology. His kindly tone and boyish features tended to make people assume he was just playing. And his _stupid_ title did not help that assumption  
  
The cycle of questions and apologies was almost predictable by now.  
  
Because of that, Iroza was prepared to brush it off. He laughed lightly, walking forward and patting her on the shoulder. “Worry not, Warden Pola. No offense was taken, so you are easily forgiven.”  
  
She straightened back up and nodded, eyeing him a bit more warily than before.  
  
“Now then,” he said, looking up at her with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It rarely did. “What does a typical day in your job look like?”  
  
“Well…” Here she hesitated for the first time. “My days can vary in complexity… But most of the time my only real duties involve making sure everything goes as it should, and everyone is in their place. Guards at their posts or on their routes, prisoners fed at appropriate times, and all the daily logs filled out properly. Not very exciting, but it’s that way by design.”  
  
Iroza hummed as he followed along. “That does sound very droll, but about what I expected. I’m told your authority is focused around the lower levels of the prison?”  
  
“The Head Warden relies on delegation, sir. There are two other Wardens aside from me, Linah and Shon. They handle the upper levels, which hold non-bending criminals. Those require more active leadership, since the prisoners are moved through the courts in a way they aren’t down here.”  
  
“And what changes about your job changes during the more… _Exciting_ days?”  
  
She frowned. “Sir?”  
  
“The non-standard ones. Wan Bhing is a contested territory, and I understand the border sees its share of clashes with the Earth Kingdom forces. The lower levels of the prison were built to hold benders, correct?”  
  
“Yes… It was for firebenders, back when the territory was still held by the enemy. But the infrastructure specialized for that, the cooling pipes and cold rooms, those were replaced some years back.”  
  
Iroza looked out at the halls where the cells were laid out.  
  
“And now they’re built for earthbenders, yes?”  
  
“That’s right, sir.”  
  
He hummed, drumming “Metal and wood. That’s enough to keep them in place, in your experience?”  
  
“For the most part.”  
  
But not forever.  
  
Earthbenders weren’t kept here long-term.  
  
“How often do they get shipped out?” At her questioning look, he jerked his head out at the hall. “The earthbenders. From what I understand, they’re ultimately shipped out to those sea prisons off to the coast. Great big metal things, specially built to keep them in place.”  
  
Pola slowly nodded, and Iroza didn’t miss the way she moved the letter behind her and out of his sight.  
  
"There's no regular 'shipment'. Once a certain amount of earthbenders is exceeded, they're loaded up and sent out with a supply train towards the coast. I'm not clear on the details from there, but I assume they trade hands and find their way to the sea prisons. As you say, sir."

“I see,” Iroza said, eyes scanning the shelves stacked with scrolls. “Then by your estimate, how many earthbenders are currently being held here?”  
  
She glanced over at her desk, brow furrowing. “Thirteen. Three more currently on the way from a recent clash.”  
  
So. Sixteen then.  
  
The letter he wasn’t supposed to know about had specified that sixteen prisoners would soon be transferred. Apparently, that was enough to breach whatever threshold on earthbenders they had.  
  
For posterity, he asked anyway.  
  
“Sixteen, then. Seems a decent number. Does that mean we might be seeing a transfer put together soon?”  
  
Ah.  
  
Here she stiffened. Only slightly, but Iroza had been waiting for it.  
  
Does the prince _know_ about the transfer?  
  
How could he?  
  
He must just be a curious little boy.  
  
Almost as soon as she went stiff, she forced herself to relax again. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, sir. It’s not information I am privy to. Representative Ji would be able to tell you, or the General.”  
  
Yeah, Ji would know. Iroza could just go ask him.  
  
Easy peasy.  
  
Iroza turned to roll his eyes, then idly scanned all of the metal wrought cells— boxes, really. He inspected them, with a veneer of interest, but only as a pretense for him to hide his face and think for a few seconds.  
  
Her answers were all very succinct and vaguely unhelpful information. It was clear that she knew not to share any crucial information with him.  
  
She had lied about the transfer orders.  
  
That was his big takeaway.  
  
His only takeaway, really.  
  
With this, all he could do was get Pola in trouble. Probably. He doubted Ji, or whoever was in charge, would risk their necks for her sake.  
  
He needed something bigger.  
  
Something he could act on.  
  
Warden Pola cleared her throat, a little awkwardly. “Adjutant? Was there anything else you wished to ask me about?”  
  
Anything?  
  
That… No.  
  
He turned and gave a small smile, shaking his head. “I believe that will be all, Warden. Thank you for your time.”  
  
“Think nothing of it,” she said, gesturing to the door. “If you wish, I’ll escort you out.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Pola walked down the hall, and Iroza followed along after her.  
  
He cursed himself in his mind.  
  
Ask more questions.  
  
Be more direct.  
  
Confront her.  
  
And yet, he hadn’t. _Why_ hadn’t he?  
  
In his mind, he cursed himself. But he also panicked. How much could he ask without giving away that he knew more than he was letting on? Could he ask anything blunter, or leading?  
  
It was too risky.  
  
Yet this entire outing was a risk to begin with.  
  
 _Yes_. Iroza still had questions for her.  
  
Who sent you the letter?  
  
What does ‘Laogai’ mean?  
  
What did she know about the conspiracy Wan Bhing?  
  
What was the depth of it?  
  
For the first time, he wished Zuko was here with him. His brother would have zero qualms about sprinting headfirst into danger at the first sign of conspiracy, all for his own honor and the honor of the Fire Nation.  
  
It was a blockheaded strategy, but it sounded better in his mind than just continuing like this.  
  
Doing nothing.  
  
Answering useless questions at a snail's pace.  
  
Even Azula would have had more efficient ideas about how to handle this. She might well have left the city a smoking crater, but it would still work.  
  
Iroza was no stranger to skullduggery, and he knew it took time.  
  
But he needed _something_.  
  
It was all well and good to take his time. To do it right. But if this conspiracy was at the expense of the Fire Nation, and obviously it had to be, then it would only cause more harm to the war effort the longer it was allowed to go on.  
  
Too little information.  
  
Not enough to act on with confidence.  
  
That was always his problem, wasn’t it?  
  
By the time he and Warden Pola had nearly made it to the prison gates, Iroza was breathing deeply through his nose. Summoning heat. Dissipating it. Trying to stay calm, while also hyping himself up.  
  
Counterproductive?  
  
Maybe.  
  
But he was nervous.  
  
He had to do something. Or, rather, he ought to.  
  
But what?  
  
Give away part of his hand in order to _maybe_ gain a lot of information? Or maintain the status quo where both he and whoever was behind this remained equally ignorant about the other, while Iroza slowly chipped away at whatever was going on?  
  
The gates swung open.  
  
He and Warden Pola stepped outside.  
  
Iroza looked up, squinting his eyes at the sun. Thinking.  
  
Decisions. Decisions.  
  
“It was an honor to meet you in person, Adjutant,” Pola said, giving one last bow. “I hope you’re not disappointed with our discussion, and I look forward to working with you in the future.”  
  
He looked back at her, still thinking.  
  
Deciding.  
  
“Our discussion was more than satisfactory, Warden… Although,” he said, smiling awkwardly at her while the heat in his chest drowned out his panic. “I did think of another question on the walk up, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me one last time.”  
  
After a few seconds, she nodded. “Of course, sir.”  
  
He took a breath.  
  
Committing.  
  
“Who was the sender of that message I just delivered to you?”  
  
There it was.  
  
The question. Confrontation.  
  
Her face went pale.  
  
None of the incompetents on duty were talking now. Nor was she.  
  
Silence.  
  
But only for a few short seconds.  
  
She raised a fist to her mouth and coughed. “I’m sorry?”  
  
“The letter,” he said, crossing his arms. “The one I just delivered, moments ago. Who sent it to you?”  
  
“I— I… Don’t—”  
  
“You don’t know?” he said, voice full of disbelief. “Strange then, that it would be sent to you, directly through the General’s office. If it’s anonymous, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind handing it over to be inspected?”  
  
She quickly tried to compose herself. “I mean that— I don’t… I don’t think I’m at liberty to say… Sir.”  
  
“To me? Or at all?”  
  
“I’m not at liberty to say, sir.”  
  
“Not at liberty,” he repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes at her. “I would advise you not to shut me out, Warden. Must we take this to General Rama? He happens to be dining right now, so I would hate to trouble him with this. But I will, if you persist.”  
  
She went quiet again, meeting his gaze. Maybe trying to convince herself that he wouldn’t ever risk taking this to Rama. That he was full of shit. And he absolutely was.  
  
But he was a master of pretending otherwise.  
  
Finally, she relented.  
  
She made to start bowing again. “My deepest apolo—”  
  
He groaned. “Forget that, Warden. I’ve about had it with apologies today. It’s almost all I hear. Just answer the question, if you would be so kind.”  
  
After another brief bit of hesitation, she nodded. “Representative Ji has been known to send such letters, Adjutant. Whenever matters of earthbender prisoners come up, he prefers to see to it personally that they go as smoothly as possible.”  
  
“So this isn’t the first letter from him?”  
  
She shook her head. “As I said. He keeps a watchful eye on the prisoner transfers.”  
  
“I see…” he said with a slow nod. “And how do you know these letters come from Representative Ji?”  
  
“His signature, of course.”  
  
Another lie.  
  
Iroza chuckled to himself. “He signs the letter, but not the message itself? If the outside were signed from the start, I wouldn’t be obligated to question you about it.”  
  
“I respect that you had to investigate it, sir,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “But it’s not my place to question Representative Ji.”  
  
But questioning the _Supreme Royal Adjutant_ was just fine, was it?  
  
Honestly, fuck everyone.  
  
“I understand the conflict you must be feeling, Warden. Rest assured that this will likely be the last you’ll hear about this… Hiccup of administration.”  
  
Doubtful.  
  
 _Really_ doubtful.  
  
But she looked a little less panicked, now. Which was good.  
  
“That is good to hear.” She paused, looking like she would really rather leave already, before going on. “Did you have any more questions for me, Adjutant?”  
  
Yes.  
  
Unfortunately, this was where he felt compelled to end it.  
  
So far everything he had asked Warden Pola was limited by what he could feasibly be expected to know, _without_ reading the letter. Any further, and it would be all too obvious that he had.  
  
He _very_ briefly considered just asking her what ‘Laogai’ meant.  
  
That would stir things up.  
  
But no… No, he had pushed far enough for now.  
  
Iroza sighed. “That will be all, Warden. Thank you for your… _Cooperation_. You’ve been most helpful.”  
  
With a clipped nod, she bowed one final time before turning on her heel and walking back into the prison. A little disrespectful, but Iroza was so tired of talking to her that he was willing to let it pass without comment.  
  
Poor lady. She had looked so stressed out.  
  
Shaking his head, he adjusted his cloak and started back down the street.  
  
So…  
  
That was a risk.  
  
But it had paid off, in the end.  
  
Be still, his beating heart.  
  
He closed his eyes, trying not to focus on how jittery and nervous he felt.  
  
Focus on other things, Iroza.  
  
Like how Representative Ji was now firmly at the top of his list of most suspicious people. Obviously.  
  
How he had taken a special interest in the transfer of sixteen earthbender prisoners, which was apparently a regular thing for him  
  
How Warden Pola had lied on his behalf multiple times but seemed ready enough to let him take responsibility for the letters, meaning Ji was most likely prepared for this kind of eventuality.  
  
And how Iroza was still fucking breathing after all that.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
What a world.


End file.
